


Hold Me Like I'm More Than Just a Friend

by jane_x80



Series: All I Ask [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 Months after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5562832">Let This Be The Way We Remember Us</a>, Under Secretary Anthony DiNozzo is keeping busy with his job. But is he over Gibbs? And is Gibbs over him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I will leave my heart at the door

**Author's Note:**

> OK - here's my attempt at a third part of the series. Tony is still Under Secretary (known as the 'Under' - I googled it), and has decided to stay past the original one year that he had discussed with Sarah Porter. Many of you asked for the sequel, and really, this Tony and Gibbs wouldn't shut up and leave me alone either. It's a bit nerve-wracking because the first two received such good reviews and comments from you guys, so I hope this third and final part will not disappoint.
> 
> Series is inspired by the song All I Ask by Adele. Titles of the works (and of the chapters in this story) are lines in that song.
> 
> It's kind of long too so I'll be posting it over the next few days (it's complete). Thanks! :D

Chas Truman hurriedly trots along with the sweep of people walking with Under Secretary of the Navy Anthony DiNozzo Jr. along the halls of the Pentagon, all of them nodding, some taking notes on notebooks and tablets while the ‘Under’ barked out gentle orders. Chas is the newest in his entourage, it is her first day auditioning for the intern position on his staff. She has not even exchanged a word with him, but he is known in the Pentagon as being completely unorthodox and exciting, and someone who always gets the job done.

Chas has just completed her PhD in Political Science and, given the buzz about the Under, she had eagerly applied to the position. After speaking with the Under’s Aide, Personal Assistant, and the outgoing intern, she was informed that she would be one of four interns auditioning, and each would have one week after which only one would be chosen to intern for a year.

The whole time the Under was speaking, he has his cell phone in his hand and is tapping out and sending messages (she presumes) and swiping through screens. Since Chas does not yet have duties, she listens to his voice (he has a lovely, sexy, almost baritone growl) and watches his body language – large green eyes flash expressively, groomed eyebrows quirking to emphasize his words, a quick and easy grin. She can see why so many find him appealing – he is tall, broad-shouldered, with impeccably styled short brown hair, high cheekbones, strong jawline, full and shapely lips, and the expensive designer suit that he wore does not hide the fact that underneath is a toned, muscular body. In his forties, the Under is a very attractive man (and very single, Chas’s brain adds). But other than his physical characteristics, obviously he has a quick brain and he expects his staff to jump to do his bidding and to anticipate what he wants. What is most telling is that his entire staff seems devoted to him – his Aide, PA and intern had been extremely protective of him and his time when they interviewed her.

Chas has done her research – Anthony DiNozzo had been a college athlete (football and basketball), then a police officer for six years, then an NCIS Agent for fifteen before being hand-picked by SecNav Sarah Porter to be her Under Secretary 18 months ago. During his 18-month tenure, he has taken the Pentagon by storm and is surprisingly popular with everyone, from the traditional stick in the muds to the crazy left-winged liberals.

“Ha!” the Under crows happily. “I’m totally killing at this week’s Navy Secretariat FitBit work week hustle! Unless that fucker Samuels gets ten thousand more steps in,” he pauses to glance at the Patek Phillippe dress watch on his wrist, “ninety-seven minutes! So gonna trash talk him.” He chuckles and thumbs his phone, presumably to send a trash talk text to the JAG, Rob Samuels.

The entourage arrives at the Under’s offices. “Everybody set for tomorrow?” he stops and smiles at everyone, and Chas tries to contain her stuttering heartbeat. It is the first time she has seen him smile other than in his file photos, and the photos do not do him justice.

“Sir, what’s tomorrow?” Chas asks timidly.

“Don’t call me sir,” Tony says mildly. “Tomorrow I’m cooking dinner for everyone. Lois,” he addresses his PA, “will you update Newbie on the plans? Attendance is obviously not mandatory, it is Saturday night and I assume that unlike me, you guys have a life and have dates and shit. So send Lois your RSVPs to ensure I am not stuck with craploads of leftovers. Also keep in mind, my old team from NCIS is also coming tomorrow so if you guys haven’t met them and want to, tomorrow’s your chance.”

He looks at his watch again. “It’s Friday night, isn’t it?” he asks. “Well, now that I’ve completely blown all your dinner plans, why don’t you all head out and it’s just enough time to shower and go clubbing.”

His staff grins and disperses, although George, the Under’s Aide walks into the inner sanctum with him. Lois grabs Chas’s elbow and directs her towards the office.

“He has a minute now so why don’t we go and have a chat with him?” she says. They walk into the Under’s office, decorated with classic wooden shelves filled with books and knick knacks. The Under is sitting down in his chair, leaning dangerously far back, feet on his desk, idly tossing a nerf basketball up and down in his hand as George speaks to him.

“Boss,” Lois interrupts. “Newbie’s here.”

Tony turns to look at them. “Name?”

“Uh, what?”

“Newbie, your name please?”

“Chas Truman.”

“Chas is short for?”

“Um, Chastity,” she blushes.

The Under puts his feet on the floor and sits up. “Lois, did you seriously find me an intern named ‘Chastity’?” he glares at his PA. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“It’s not healthy for you not to get out more.”

He groans. “I date,” he says defensively.

“If you call taking that surfer dude to dinner in California last month or that pretty blond skiing instructor with the attractive lisp three months ago ‘dating’. It’s just not good for you,” Lois grins.

“They had pretty eyes,” Tony mutters.

“They always do.”

“So, Chastity,” Tony says her name slowly, raising an eyebrow at her, “why do you want to intern with us?”

“Sir, because-“

Tony makes a buzzer sound. “Nope. You do not call me sir, unless you are the Marines on my protective detail because even I don’t have the power to stop them from sir-ring me.”

Chas stares at him in disbelief. A big part of her is trying to just take in everything, and the easy way that Lois listed out his sad dating activities (which included a dude!) is confusing her.

“He will answer to ‘Boss’,” Lois says in a stage whisper.

“Or Tony,” George adds.

Chas balks internally at calling the Under Secretary of the Navy ‘Tony’. “Um, Boss, well because you do things differently and I want to see how that’s working in the context of the traditionally rigid structures of the DoD, sir. I mean, Boss.”

“Oh my god, one of those?” Tony groans, looking at Lois. “Really?”

Lois shrugs. “I thought you’d get a kick out of her name, though.”

Tony grins. “This is true. Chastity, you know the deal. One week. Lois and George and Kyle will tell you what you need to do. You and the other three auditioning interns are also invited to my apartment tomorrow night along with the rest of my staff – check your emails and RSVP to Lois. Any questions?”

Chas shakes her head.

“Good. Pleasure meeting you,” he smiles at her and waits until she exits the office. When the door is closed, he turns to Lois and George, his expression a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “You chose a girl named ‘Chastity’??”

“She’s got a PhD,” Lois says.

“Fuck, so do I and so does George,” Tony scoffs, “and we all know how much that matters. And you had to discuss my love life-“

“Or lack thereof,” George chips in, earning him a glare.

Lois smiles. “Tony, it’s been 18 months. It’s time. It’s time to put yourself out there and not just for rare and random one night stands for people with eyes that specific shade of blue that you like so much.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “They’re not all blue-eyed,” he objects.

“Yes, Tony, they are.”

Tony’s eyes are filled with sadness. “I’m not ready,” he says quietly.

“Nobody ever is, Boss,” Lois says gently. “And you never will be ready if you never put yourself out there.”

“But…”

“Do you know what they’re calling you?” George says.

“What?” Tony is immediately suspicious.

“They’re calling you the UnderSex of the Navy,” George grins, “cause of the lack of sex and you being Under Secretary and whatnot.”

“Yes I get the pun,” Tony pouts.

“What would your frat brothers say, Sex Machine?” Lois teases him.

“Tell me again why I thought it was a good idea for you guys to meet McGee, Abby and Bishop?” Tony groans, scrubbing his face. “And besides, how would I even put myself out there. An e-dating profile? How would that even go?”

“Under-sexed Under Secretary of the Navy, looking for blue-eyed nympho slash nymphette?” George quips.

“Fuck you, George,” Tony grouses.

“The point being, Boss that you need to start putting out vibes like you’re at least looking.”

“But I’m not looking,” Tony says tightly. “Now hand me that stack of paperwork for me to read and work on.”

“It’s Friday night!”

“McGee is coming over later to watch movies with me.”

“And you guys will drink too much, as usual?”

Tony shrugs. “It could happen.”

“Boss, did you invite _him_ to dinner tomorrow?” George asks carefully. Him of course, being Tony’s famed ex, the reason why he left NCIS, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, his former boss.

Tony’s ears turn red. “He’s always invited when I invite the team. Don’t worry, he won’t come,” he says shortly. “Now hand me the papers and go home.”

George and Lois look at each other helplessly, then they each place a stack of papers and folders on Tony’s table before they leave. Tony quietly starts going through the stack, trying to keep his mind off of a specific pair of blue eyes that still haunt his dreams. Sighing, he finally throws the folders into his backpack (he refuses to carry a briefcase, the backpack is a holdover from his NCIS days), and leaves his office, ensuring that his door is locked. He nods to the two Marines who are his security detail, and they fall in step behind him as he starts walking.

“Going home, sir?” one of them asks him.

“Yep.”

He radios down to ensure that Tony’s car will be waiting for him. Tony gets into the big black SUV (obviously a G-ride) and tries not to miss being able to drive himself around as he is driven back to his apartment. The Marines escort him to his front door and sweep his apartment before he is allowed in. He thanks them and closes the door on them – they will stay in the car, on duty. They used to wait outside his front door, but he pitched a fit about that and now the Marines get to sit in the car and watch his building, monitoring the security feed to the cameras that they had placed to watch all the egresses to his apartment and his building.

Tony throws his keys in the bowl, puts his gun away in the gun safe, and his backup gun goes from his ankle holster to his bedside table. He strips out of his suit and gets into a t-shirt and basketball shorts. He sits at his piano and plays for a while, then he grabs a beer and sits at his coffee table, and starts to go through the papers.

He sighs. Friday night, and he’s in DC working from home waiting for McGee to finish whatever case he’s on. Luckily Delilah is out of town this weekend or he wouldn’t even have McGee. Lois and George are right, he needs to get back in the saddle. But the thought of meeting someone new and getting to know them just makes his lip curl in disgust.

Frustrated and filled with nervous energy now, he decides to put his running shoes on, stretches, straps ankle and wrist weights on himself before he gets on the treadmill in his bedroom and begins running. After a couple months of forcing his Marine protective detail to trail after him at odd hours when he found the time to run during his first months as Under Secretary, he caved and purchased a treadmill. It turned out to be too much of a hassle to make everyone run with him. Running is supposed to be quiet time for him, not time to have Marines trailing discreetly after him, making him self-conscious and unable to sink into his running headspace.

When he comes out of the shower, McGee is sitting on his sofa nursing a beer and flipping through channels on the TV. He smiles, “Probie!” he greets the younger man.

“Nobody calls me that now except you, Tony,” Tim McGee complains. It is clearly an old gripe which Tony ignores completely, throwing himself onto the sofa next to McGee. “You running in the middle of the night again?” McGee asks him.

Tony shrugs. “Day was filled. Look, Tim, look at all the stupid papers I have to go through,” he kicked at his coffee table. “I thought SFA paperwork was stupid. This stuff is even worse,” he shudders.

McGee smiles fondly at his former Senior Field Agent. “You love being the Under though.”

Tony smiles back and sighs. “I really do, I guess.”

“Abby was sad you didn’t come back to NCIS after your first year was up.”

“I know.”

“But you know we’re all crazy proud, right? Our very own Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo is now the Very Special Under Secretary of the Navy?”

Tony laughs. “That’s not what they call me now.”

“Oh, you have a new nickname?”

Tony sighs. “They’re calling me the UnderSex.”

McGee roars with laughter. “That is fucking awesome, Tony.”

“Not if you’re me.”

McGee puts his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Why don’t we watch a violent movie where everything gets blown up and people are hurt and stuff?”

“ _Die Hard?_ ” Tony says hopefully.

“Sure,” McGee rolls his eyes, and Tony jumps up to put the DVD in and the two men settle on the couch with their beers to watch the movie, Tony mouthing all the lines until he falls asleep on the sofa, and slowly slides down until his head is on McGee’s shoulder. McGee gets off the sofa and gets Tony to lie down. He slides a pillow under Tony’s head and covers him with a blanket, and pets Tony’s head, sighing. Tony might have a thriving career, but he obviously has not bounced back after Gibbs if he of all people, is being called the UnderSex. Although it has been almost a year since he last caught Tony crying into his bourbon late at night, he is still not dating and apparently not ready to open himself to new people. He has clung to his old friends from NCIS, his frat buddies, and now his staff at the Pentagon, but despite being very popular in the DoD circles, he has kept himself personally aloof from most people.

McGee sits on the floor by Tony’s head to watch the rest of the movie, idly looking at one or two pages of the papers on Tony’s coffee table, shuddering at the thought of even more paperwork. When the movie ends, McGee turns everything off and goes to sleep in Tony’s bed.

In the morning when McGee wanders out of the bedroom, he finds Tony sitting at the island, scribbling on papers, signing stuff, and frowning at others, making notes in his tiny policeman’s notebook, a large mug of coffee in front of him. Tony grunts a good morning at McGee and gestures to the coffeemaker. McGee pours himself some coffee and refills Tony’s cup.

“Did you finish going through that pile of papers?” McGee is surprised.

“Last of it, here,” Tony says, glaring at the few papers left. “I’m almost done. You sticking around while I cook?”

McGee sighs. “I better get to the office and do my own damned paperwork.”

Tony looks up and grins, “Yeah, I remember those days. Gibbs used to give me a ton of his shit to do too,” Tony ignores the tiny twinge of pain when he says Gibbs’ name.

McGee glares at him. “So you’re the one who established that lovely precedent,” he grumbles.

Tony shrugs. “He started it when I started. You know how he is. I bet Stan used to do some of it too. But you know he has his own shitload of paperwork to do that he doesn’t and can’t pass off.”

“Stupid federal government bureaucratic crap.”

“Yep. And I’m waist deep in it now,” Tony grins and goes back to his papers.

McGee rummages through Tony’s cupboards and fridge with ease – he has spent quite a bit of time at Tony’s apartment with him since Tony left NCIS since going out somewhere always makes Tony nervous and self-conscious due to his security detail tagging along. “You want scrambled eggs and toast?”

Tony smiles up at McGee. “Sure thing, Probie.”

After McGee makes them breakfast and showers, he leaves for the office assuring Tony he will be back for the big dinner.

That night, Tony’s apartment is filled with people. From NCIS, Ducky, Palmer, McGee and Bishop are there, along with Breena and baby Victoria who isn’t even a baby anymore. His staff from the Pentagon are also present, Lois, George, a couple of his staffers, Kyle the outgoing intern and all of the auditioning interns. Lois, George and the outgoing intern have brought their significant others as well. Tony’s off-duty protective detail Marines are also present, enjoying his hospitality and his booze happily.

Tony has just served the antipasto and is opening bottles of wine when Abby arrives.

“Tonyyyyy!” she shrieks and pushes her way through the crowd to throw herself into his arms.

Tony laughs, hugging her tight and kisses her cheek. “Hey Abs.”

“Tony, I hope you’re not mad but I kind of brought someone else here today. Or rather, he kind of tagged along.”

“Burt? You know he’s always welcome.”

“No, not Burt,” Abby looks very guilty. “Um, its…”

“No!” Tony looks shocked and looks at his front door. Gibbs is standing in front of it, his eyes taking in the full house before those laser-sharp blue eyes find Tony.

Tony stares at him, and he openly stares back. Tony’s pulse quickens, his mouth goes dry, and it feels like the temperature has gone up ten degrees in his apartment. Gibbs looks freshly showered and is wearing a dark blue dress shirt tucked into tight jeans (Tight jeans? Tony wonders. He’d never even owned a pair of tight jeans before.). His hair is silver and shining, and the shirt makes his eyes look even bluer than they are. He has made an effort, Tony thinks. Fuck it. The bastard still looks good enough to eat. Tony tries to wrestle his emotions back under control.

Tony pulls himself to his full height and squares his shoulders, and nods at Gibbs, who nods back, his lips quirked up into a small smile. Tony’s own lips slide up a little in answer. With iron control he forces himself to turn away, grabs a couple of beers from the fridge, gives one to Abby and asks her to give the other to Gibbs, and then his eyes immediately slide back to Gibbs.

“Are you mad at me, Tony?” Abby whispers. “He just looked so sad today, and I knew it was because he knew we were all going to see you. You did invite him, too. And really, all I said to him was, you know you’re invited too, Bossman, and boom he was like I’ll be there.”

“So he _wanted_ to come?” Tony whispers back, still unable to tear his eyes off of Gibbs.

Abby nods. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “It’s been a year and a half. We should be able to have a civil time in a roomful people, right? Go on and give him that beer.”

Tony keeps his eyes on Gibbs, watches as Abby hands him the bottle. For his part, Gibbs hasn’t moved from his spot by the front door, and has barely blinked, his eyes trained on Tony. It is the first time they have seen each other since Tony left NCIS and all they seem to be able to do is stand and stare at each other. It is fast becoming obvious to Tony’s other guests that something is brewing.

Gibbs notes the slight flush on Tony’s face, his honey-brown hair shorter than he used to wear it at NCIS makes him look younger, all that golden skin, the play of muscles in his broad shoulders and his chest under his tight shirt. When he had been at NCIS, he had been bulkier, perhaps from all the late nights and junk food, but now he looks leaner, toned, and sculpted somehow. Tony’s green eyes are still as bright and as beautiful as ever, and he cannot look away from them.

A small, dark haired woman elbows Tony and he leans down, giving her his ear without looking away from Gibbs.

“Boss,” Lois whispers urgently, “Is that _him?_ ”

Tony nods absently, “Uh, yeah.”

“I see now the reason for your obsession with the blue eyes,” she says.

“Shut up, Lois.”

“You need to close your mouth and pay attention to other people here,” Lois tells him. “Everyone is staring at you two now.”

“What?” Tony barely even hears Lois’s voice, blood pounding in his ears so loudly.

Lois elbows him again. “I think we’re done with the antipasto, Boss,” she grits out. “Bring out more food. Now.”

Tony seems to shake himself, flashing one last look at Gibbs that is filled with such longing that it hurts Lois to see it. “Right. Dinner.” He clears his throat, flushing bright red as he turns back into the kitchen.

His apartment is too small for everyone to sit down together so he has set up his dining table buffet style. The next course is pasta and salad, and upon popular request he’d made his lasagna, both meatless and vegetarian and he pulls the casserole dishes from the oven where they were being kept warm, and sets out the salad options.

He watches as people start helping themselves to the lasagna.

“You got a grater for the parmesan, Boss?” George asks, holding up the hunk of parmigiano reggiano cheese.

Tony looks at the crush of people between him and the kitchen and sees that Gibbs is by the kitchen entrance. Without thought, he calls out, “Jethro, cheese grater, please?”

Gibbs nods, ducks into the kitchen and comes right out with the hand-held cheese grater, still knowing exactly where Tony keeps his things. “Catch, sweetheart,” he calls back and throws it.

Tony gracefully plucks it from the air without damaging his fingers, as if the grater were keys for the NCIS truck, and hands it to George, before he freezes, the ‘sweetheart’ hanging in the air, long after it was said. His eyes widen in shock and he glares at Gibbs, who looks just as shocked as he does.

The room has gone silent, and Gibbs is proud to see the off-duty Marines make their way to flank Tony, suddenly fiercely protective. Tony pulls himself together and begins talking and smiling, and pushing the Marines back to eating and reminding them that they are not on duty, and gradually the room returns to a party atmosphere.

After the pasta course, Tony brings out the prime rib roast with herbed mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. McGee finds his way to Tony.

“ _’Sweetheart’?_ ” he says.

Tony flushes. “Shut up,” he knows his comeback is lame but it’s the best he can do.

“It’s cute, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s over and he’s not going to call me that again,” Tony says, and his heart spasms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You know this is so totally going to go around the office, right?”

“I’m not even at NCIS anymore and people are still gossiping about me?” Tony snaps.

“There’s still a lot of curiosity about the two of you, you know. And you know nobody’s actually going to dare to ask Gibbs anything.”

Tony sets his jaw. “Well, what’s wrong with ‘sweetheart’ anyway?”

“I’ve just never heard him call anyone an endearment. It’s kind of sweet that he calls you that.”

“Called me that. Past tense,” Tony glares at McGee. “We are done talking about this, McBusybody. Just fucking go and eat, why don’t you?”

McGee nudges Tony with his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic grin before he joins the line for food.

While Tony is in the kitchen making coffee for the dessert course, Gibbs carefully approaches him.

“DiNozzo,” he says, and watches as Tony jumps and turns to him, his green eyes flashing with anger.

“Kind of late for that, don’t you think?” he mutters.

“Sorry,” Gibbs sighs, and rubs his hand over the back of his neck, head down. “It just came out. I wasn’t thinking.”

Tony blinks for a few moments and nods, the familiarity of Gibbs’ gesture hitting him in the gut, causing him to catch his breath. That look on his face, guilty and embarrassed, and fucking adorable. And the fucking apology on his tongue. Surprising him.

“You look good,” Gibbs says softly.

“You, too.”

“You doing OK?”

Tony nods. “Keeping busy. You drinking too much?”

“Trying not to. Your Probie yells at me if he finds me drunk.”

“Good.”

They stare at each other for another long moment before Gibbs blows out a breath. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

Gibbs places a warm hand on Tony’s cheek, thumb caressing the skin gently, and Tony cannot help but close his eyes at the familiar feel. Gibbs lets his hand rest there for a moment before he draws a deep breath. “See ya, DiNozzo.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I think maybe I should.”

Tony nods, averting his eyes. Gibbs’ gentle touch on his cheek brings sudden tears to his eyes.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Gibbs whispers, and he turns, smiling blindly at random people and makes his way to the door, feeling Tony’s eyes on his back the entire way. When he closes the door behind him, he leans against it and raises an eyebrow at the two Marines on protective detail outside the front door. One of them is eating a large plate of food while the other stands at attention.

“Gunny,” they greet him, knowing who he is and his rank.

“He always make sure you’re fed?” Gibbs asks.

“We only go hungry on his detail if he does, Gunny.”

“He always hated when he was on protective detail and was surrounded by food but not allowed to eat.”

The Marines grin at him. “Bet he was pretty vocal about his displeasure.”

Gibbs grins back. “Oh yeah,” he grunts at them before he leaves. He drives himself home, his mind full of Tony. Seeing him again had been difficult – he looks even better now, he thinks. His eyes are clear, his skin golden and lustrous, his smile before he’d spotted Gibbs had been open and mischievous, as it had been before things went so wrong with them. Gibbs tries not to remember the feel of those hard muscles under his fingers, the taste of that golden skin on his tongue, and the hoarse cries of pleasure in his ears, while his cock is deep inside him.

When he gets home, he changes into his woodworking clothes, and for the first time in months he puts on the red OSU hoodie that Tony had left him, wishing it still smelled like Tony. He sighs. At least they are not on call so even though McGee will yell at him, tonight is a good night for bourbon.

At the end of the night, Lois, McGee, Abby and Bishop help Tony clean the apartment. When they are done, they sit on the sofa, nursing beers and glasses of wine.

“So,” Lois sighs, “that was Gibbs.”

Tony doesn’t bother hiding his sadness from them, they are the people closest to him. Abby and Bishop are on either side of him, hugging him.

“I’m supposed to be over him,” Tony says quietly. “He’s not good for me.”

Lois bites her lips. “Yeah, you’re definitely not ready to be out there yet.”

“I told you that,” Tony says dejectedly.

“Although I did like George’s e-dating profile for you,” Lois smiles.

“What was it?” McGee wants to know.

Lois closes her eyes, recalling, “Undersexed Under Secretary looking for blue eyed nympho or nymphette,” she recites.

“Damn you and your total recall,” Tony complains as Abby, Bishop and McGee start laughing. “McGee, you know he’s probably hitting the bourbon tonight.”

McGee shrugs. “I’m guessing you will be too, the minute we all leave.”

“Nope,” Tony says smugly.

“Scotch, then,” Bishop says.

“Fuck, yeah,” Tony sighs. “That’s more like it.”

“It was such a shock when he called you sweetheart, Boss,” Lois says. “Did you guys ever hear that before?” she looks at Tony’s former NCIS teammates.

“Surprised us all,” Abby says quietly, watching as Tony’s eyes get even sadder. “Let’s change the subject,” she tightens her arms around Tony.

Tony smiles gratefully at her. “Enough drama. Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ll make popcorn,” Bishop jumps up. For the second night in a row, Tony falls asleep on his sofa, surrounded by his friends. Again McGee sleeps in his bed. In the morning, after a quick breakfast with Tony, McGee goes to Gibbs’ house and pries him out from under the boat, away from the bottle of bourbon, noting the return of Tony’s OSU hoodie. He sighs.

“What a fucking mess,” he mutters to himself, not for the first time.


	2. So why don't we just play pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see a little of how Tony now works, and then an unexpected return to the Navy Yard for a case, and more interactions with Gibbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, seriously thanks for all the kudos and comments for Part 1! I feel better posting this story even though I have my own reservations. Hopefully you all continue to like how this story goes.

Tony spends Sunday morning at the office with George and the outgoing intern, Kyle, who is leaving to teach at Annapolis after eighteen months interning with his office. Chas is shadowing Kyle, noting how in the office Kyle jumps even before Tony snaps his fingers or points at something, or starts a sentence, completely anticipating Tony’s requests. Tony seems less energetic and more subdued, this morning, and even Chas can tell that his staff are anxious about him. Interestingly, anyone walking into the office would have had trouble figuring out which one was the Under Secretary since Tony had on an OSU hoodie and sweatpants.

When Kyle and Chas are on the lunch run, Chas decides to ask questions.

“How did you know what he wanted before he even asked?” she starts.

“You’ll get the hang of it. It took me a few weeks before we really gelled. He doesn’t like to actually ask for things but you’ll understand his cues if you pay attention.”

“He asked me why I was interning. Why did you intern for him, if you don’t mind my asking? Seems like you’re more than just lunch runs and random tasks?”

Kyle smiles. “He’s co-authored two papers with me in the past year and a half,” he says. “I’ve learned more about the Navy working with him and his staff than I ever did working on my PhD at the Naval Postgraduate School. I guess I can always let Lois or someone else do the lunch and the other crap for him, but I like being the guy who knows everything he needs even before he knows it.”

“So he’s easy to work for?”

“Yes. And no. He’s quirky, but he’s completely reasonable and logical. Take the time to get to know him and you’ll love working for him.”

Kyle then explains Tony’s lunch preferences, depending on where they go for the take out, Tony’s moods, and what might be on Tony’s calendar. Chas jots everything down in her notebook. He also tells her that part of her unwritten duties will be to run interference should anyone try to get frisky with Tony.

“Frisky? What do you mean?”

“Like overly aggressively try to ask him out or something.”

“But what if he wants them to do it?”

Kyle almost growls in frustration. “The Boss does not date, Newbie,” he states baldly. “Despite what Lois and George want and his own naturally excessive flirtatiousness, he hasn’t actually gone on a proper date the entire time he’s been the Under. He does not date. So you do what you need to to stop people from making him have to fight them off with a stick. One time, I had to throw my arms around him and kiss him right on the lips to prevent this French minister from trying to do it herself.”

Chas gasps. “What happened after that?”

Kyle shrugs and grins. “Boss is a great kisser, that’s what I learned. And the French minister backed off. Although I’m pretty sure the Swedish minister – tall, blonde Viking type – he got all hot and bothered.”

“Is the Boss gay?”

Kyle laughs. “He says he’s an equal opportunity non-dater. Had quite the reputation as a ladies man when he was at NCIS.”

“That’s who those people were last night? McGee, Abby, Ellie?”

Kyle nods. “His old teammates. He’s still tight with them.”

“Why did he keep staring at his old Boss?”

Kyle snorts in disbelief. “Where the hell have you been, Newbie? Under a fucking rock?”

“Why?”

“Gibbs is the reason why he left NCIS.”

Chas frowns, still not understanding.

“Fuck, Newbie!” Kyle throws up his hands. “The Boss and Gibbs were together. It was a bad break up. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty sure after seeing how they were last night that neither of them have gotten over each other? Did you not feel the tension? The sparks? That they couldn’t tear their eyes off of each other. You saw that, right? Plus the fact that Gibbs called him sweetheart?”

Chas thinks for a minute before it dawns on her what that weirdness had been. “Ohhh,” she breathes, eyes wide.

“Right. ‘Oh’,” Kyle mocks her.

“Does everyone know?”

“They do now. Story goes, that everyone knew Tony was leaving NCIS because of a break up but nobody knew who it was. His last day, farewell party, he says goodbye to everyone. Last guy he says bye to is Gibbs and Gibbs pulls him in for one last final kiss. The way Abby tells it, it was both the hottest and the most heartbreaking kiss she ever saw.”

“Damn,” Chas says, eyes wide, trying to imagine it.

“We do not talk about this to Tony or in front of him. Do not mention Gibbs’ name unless he does, and he never does. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kyle snorts in disgust and rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me sir, Newbie.”

“Uh, sorry, Kyle.”

After lunch, Tony spends a half hour sparring with one of his off-duty Marine escorts, and Chas realizes that Tony is a good fighter, and keeps his skills honed despite no longer being in the field. He and Wilson are fairly evenly matched, until Tony pulls out some slick moves, pins Wilson down and Wilson has to tap out. Wilson laughs and tells him it’s still not fair to pull out the Krav Maga. Tony knows that all the years of sparring with Gibbs and then Ziva has given him an edge in hand to hand combat. Then while Tony watches, Kyle and George begin to spar. Tony insists, despite being a civilian office, that his entire staff is trained in hand to hand and are able to defend themselves.

“Newbie,” he gestures to Chas, and she trots over obediently. “You have any experience defending yourself like this?”

Chas shakes her head.

Tony nods at Wilson who comes over. “Sir?” he salutes.

“Fuck, Wilson, still? I’ll beat that habit out of you one day,” he glares at Wilson for the off-duty ‘sir’. “Anyway, Newbie here will need basic training on hand to hand. Can you arrange it for her and the other three possible interns?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Um, sir?” Chas asks timidly.

“Not sir,” Tony reminds her, “Take him down, Kyle!” he yells while George and Kyle grunt, grappling with each other.

“Right. Boss?”

“What?”

“Why do you want me to learn this?”

Tony looks down at her. “I was a cop for over twenty years, Newbie. You’d be surprised how much being able to defend yourself would really help in any situation so if you want to work for me, you will work hard at this, as in all the other shit I will make you do.”

Chas nods uncertainly. Afterwards, they all cool down with some yoga. Then Tony leaves for a pick up football game with his frat buddies, taking only his security detail. That evening he attends a Chilean Naval Admiral’s party for the SecNav, wearing a tailored tuxedo and mingling with guests, while his detail hover in the background. Whenever Tony attends these kinds of functions, he always feels as if he needs a comm-link in his ear, as prior to his appointment as Under Secretary, he would only have been attending either as part of a security detail or undercover. He always pretends that he is undercover filling in for the Under Secretary when he is at these parties.

By the time the Chilean Admiral thrusts his beautiful and single daughter into his arms for a dance, Tony notices Wilson winking at him conspiratorially. He nods. He dances once with the surprisingly lovely and intelligent Elena, and they converse in Spanish while he whirls her around on the dance floor, and once the song ends, Wilson walks up to him and whispers in his ear, looking intent and serious.

“Ready to leave, sir? I think you’ve been here the requisite two hours.”

Tony puts a thoughtful frown on his face as he nods quietly. Wilson continues to whisper things, keeping his expression serious while he quietly and graphically describes all of Elena’s assets and why Tony should continue dancing with her instead of leaving.

Tony turns to Elena, and gracefully makes his excuses. Duty calls and that he has to leave. He kisses her hand and then goes around and says goodbye to key persons before he and his Marines leave. Tony laughs when they are in the car.

“Wilson, I didn’t even know you knew some of those words,” he tells him. “You motherfucker. I almost laughed out loud when you described her – uh – bosom so graphically.”

“Figured you could see all the way down her dress, sir.”

Tony grins, “Oh yeah I could. And I did. She’s definitely what you described.”

“You’re a lucky man, sir.”

Tony grunts. “You guys enjoy the dinner last night?”

“Sir, you know we’re all fans of your pasta ever since you gave us those to-go containers that first time we escorted the SecNav to your apartment.”

“Good,” Tony smiles, and leans back, his thoughts immediately going to Gibbs’ surprising attendance at his dinner party.

“Sir, permission to speak freely sir?” Ortiz, Wilson’s partner says hesitantly.

“Always, Ortiz. Shoot,” Tony turns back to his escorts.

“Maybe you need to just go on a binge to get over things? This is DC. There are discreet sources to get girls and guys to fuck – you can even request them to be blue eyed if you like.”

Tony looks at Ortiz in shock. a) Did everybody know he wasn’t having sex? UnderSexed of the Navy indeed! And b) Did everybody know about his obsession with blue eyes? “Um, thanks but no, Ortiz.”

“You wouldn’t be the first Washingtonian to indulge.”

Tony starts laughing. “God, I used to be a cop, Ortiz! The last thing I need is to get busted or get my name on some madam’s list. Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you’re not really good.”

Tony shrugs. “Good enough,” he says sadly. “Besides, isn’t easier for you guys when I just stay home and do nothing but work? You don’t have to skulk around some random house waiting for me to do the nasty or whatever.”

Ortiz grins. “We might get some great eyefuls. No doubt anyone you’d fuck would be super hot, sir.”

Tony snorts. “Fucking voyeurs. You’re so getting porn for Christmas.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning Tony is in the middle of his morning staff meeting when his cell rings with a call from the SecNav. He holds a finger up to his staff and they pause obediently.

“Sarah,” he says warmly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning Tony. I’ve just arrived in Manila. And I need you to handle something for me.”

“Sure thing,” Tony pulls out his notebook and pen. “Go ahead.”

“You’re not gonna like this,” Sarah says warningly.

Tony sighs. “Not the partying Japanese guys again! Why do I always have to take people out sake bombing? I’m way too old to be puking my guts out all day the day after, Sarah, and believe me, even with the DiNozzo Defibrillator I did that with those people.”

“Nope. Not them. But that was a great visual. Thanks for that,” Sarah sounds amused. “No. I’m really sorry about this one Tony, and you know I’ve tried to spare you from this, but I need you to go to the Navy Yard.”

Tony pales and quiets down. “Right,” he says softly.

“I’ve shielded you from them for a year and a half, Tony,” Sarah says, her voice gentle and sympathetic, “but I’m in Manila and some maniac janitor claims he’s booby trapped a bunch of places in Norfolk, including possibly some of our carriers, and he wants to talk to me in person. I just tried to do a video conference with him and he totally said no. So I told him I’d send my representative, and that would be you. Earliest I’d get back in person is 24 hours and he says the clock is ticking.”

Tony nods. “Got it, Sarah. I’m your man.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. But maybe it’s time you faced him again.”

“Yeah, will do.”

“They’re expecting you there now. You better go.”

“Yep. Have a good trip in Manila.”

“Good luck. Keep me posted.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tony looks up at his crew. “Right, they need SecNav’s personal rep at the Navy Yard so I’m it.” He gets up, winds his scarf around his neck and shrugs into his overcoat. “George, I need you and Lois to carry on with my regular agenda for this morning – George you know the drill. Kyle and Newbie, with me.”

Kyle rushes out, pulling Chas to grab their coats and scramble to keep up with Tony as he strides down the hallway. Wilson and Ortiz are his security detail again this morning. Lois trots along, writing down things as Tony rattles them off. When they get to the elevator, she puts a hand on Tony’s arm.

“You gonna be OK, Boss?” she asks.

Tony shrugs. “Focusing on the bomber and his threats.”

“Good. You call if you need anything.”

Tony nods and smiles. In the car on the way to the Navy Yard, Tony plugs his earbuds in and listens to the playlist that Abby had made for him which matches his jangling nerves and keeps him from thinking too much.

When they walk through the front door of Tony’s old building, he is greeted by his first name by the security guards, and Chas notices that he greets them back by their first names, and smiles at them. Tony DiNozzo seems to know everyone, and he didn’t seem to stand on ceremony. He leads them to the elevator and presses the button for the top floor. He and his entourage march down the hallway to Vance’s office where Chas notices that Tony flirts with the assistant and knows her first name. She comes out from behind the desk and gives him a hug.

“Agent DiNozzo! I mean, Under Secretary DiNozzo!”

“You remember my first name, don’cha, Cyn?” he winks at her.

“Tony,” Cynthia smiles to see that familiar grin.

“Director in?”

“Expecting you. Go right in. Kind of weird that you’re even asking, instead of barging in like you used to.”

Tony grins. “Maybe I learned some manners away from this place. Um, Cyn?” he looks at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow, somehow looking a little vulnerable.

“He’s in the bullpen,” Cynthia says, her face serious.

Tony nods. “Thanks.” He knocks twice and opens the door, walking in, his entourage following. He smiles at Vance who smiles back warmly.

“Sir,” they both address each other and Tony laughs. “How about we forget the formalities?” he grins, holding out his hand. They clasp hands and pull in for a manly hug.

“Good to see you again, DiNozzo.”

“How are Kayla and Jared?”

“Oh, growing way too fast. Kayla wants to go on dates,” Vance shudders.

“You show him your gun collection?”

“I thought I should just introduce him to Gibbs.”

“That’ll do it,” Tony grins. “So SecNav is in Manila, and I’ve officially been tagged to represent her. I hear you got some nutjob planting bombs at Norfolk?”

“Yeah. The MCRT are waiting to brief you downstairs.”

Tony nods. “Let’s do this.”

They all walk down the stairs and Tony squints and grins at the familiarity of the glaring orange walls. “I already need my migraine meds again,” he tells Vance, “or sunglasses. Damn, these stupid walls make me feel like I’m home again. Never repaint to a decent non-headache inducing color, Leon.”

“You know you always have a home with us, DiNozzo.”

Tony smiles. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Gibbs is standing and staring as Tony rounds the corner into the bullpen, as he has done countless times before. Only this time he is escorted by his protective detail and two of his staff members. He lets his fingers trail on what used to be his desk, and sees someone he hasn’t met sitting there. He turns to McGee who is sitting where he has always sat, eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t take my desk, Probie?” he asks.

McGee stands and colors. “Didn’t feel right to take your desk, Tony. It’s your desk. Besides I’d gotten everything just so on my desk.”

Tony smiles. He turns to Bishop, standing behind her desk, and smiles. “Hey Bishop.”

“Tony,” Bishop smiles. “It’s good to see you back here.”

“Good to be home,” Tony tells her. And aware that by now the entire squad room would be watching them, he turns and gives Gibbs a slight smile. “Gibbs,” he nods.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs’ voice is like warm cocoa, making him suppress a shudder of hot need. Although he isn’t smiling, the way he had said Tony’s name had been like a caress.

“What do we got?” Tony asks, unable to resist grinning at the familiarity of it all.

“SitRep,” Gibbs barks, and they all position themselves in front of the plasma. McGee begins by explaining how the supposed perp James Klein had turned himself in to the Navy Yard earlier this morning and claimed to have planted explosives in multiple places in Norfolk. Bishop goes over Klein’s background – janitorial services for the Norfolk Naval base, access to multiple ships and all of the on-base buildings, no ties to any terrorist groups, and seemingly no background on explosive ordinances, but that these days much of that information can be found on the internet. Tony stands, feet apart, arms wrapped around his body, worrying the thumbnail of one hand with his teeth, looking so normal, so like himself that Gibbs is surprised when the new probie continues the narration instead of Tony, while Tony listens carefully. The new probie talks about how Klein had demanded Sarah Porter’s presence in person, and when she video conferenced in from Manila, he decided to accept her representative.

“Why does he want a face to face with someone from the SecNav’s office?” Tony asks.

The stocky man shrugs. “I don’t know, sir,” he says.

“Don’t call me sir,” Tony says absently, his mind still on James Klein.

“Uh, sorry Under Secretary DiNozzo,” the new probie sounds nervous.

Tony glares at him, then glares at McGee, mouthing the words “Under Secretary DiNozzo?” to him. McGee grins and shrugs helplessly. “Fuck it, Probie. I’m Tony,” Tony says, holding out his hand, while the young man shakes it looking dazed. “The fuck is your name? Three Probies on the team is going to be confusing.”

“Stop calling me Probie, Tony,” McGee whines.

“When pigs fly, Probie. I asked you a question Probie-three. Your name?”

“Uh, Jordan, sir.”

Tony’s glare is fierce, and Jordan flinches. Tony turns to Gibbs, frowning. “How long has this guy been on your team, Gibbs? Can’t follow a simple order? One you’ve no doubt brow-beaten into him.” He turns to Jordan. “Stop fucking calling me sir,” he snaps.

“Jordan, the man gave you a fucking order,” Gibbs barked.

“Uh, of course, uh…”

“Fuck he’s gonna call me ‘Under Secretary DiNozzo’ again, isn’t he?” Tony shudders. “Fine, whatever. I’ll let McGeek straighten him out.”

Vance laughs at the exchange. “We’ve missed you around here, DiNozzo.”

Tony grins like a cheshire cat, his old ‘I gotcha’ grin. “I shoulda brought my tube of super glue.”

McGee tosses him one. “Probie got super-glued three times last week.”

“Three times??” Tony turns to the young man. “You didn’t learn the first time?”

“Uh, well, uh...”

“Probie, he sure sounds like you did when you started,” Tony grins. “Hang in there, little Probie. It’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“Uh, thank you, I think.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McGeek, did you check for accomplices? He doesn’t seem capable of pulling something like this off by himself.”

McGee looks frustrated. “Bishop and I have been trying to figure that part out – can’t seem to find anyone he’s close to. Loner, seemingly.”

“No boyfriend? Girlfriend? Siblings?”

“Youngest of three, two sisters and his parents are all on the west coast. No family out here,” Bishop says.

“As far as we can tell, no girlfriends or boyfriends,” Jordan pipes up. “No friends that we can find.”

“And we know he’s serious and not just a crackpot how?”

“Explosion in the engine room of the U.S.S Lincoln, docked at Norfolk at 0800,” McGee murmurs. “No casualties or injuries, luckily. But he claims he set that bomb and eight others. Bomb squad is on scene in Norfolk and the remnants are on its way to be analyzed by Abby.”

“Clock is ticking,” Gibbs mutters.

“Klein promised more fireworks at 1500,” Bishop’s eyes are anxious.

“Who’s searching his place of residence?” Tony asks.

“Carter’s team in Norfolk. Here are the photos they’ve sent us,” Bishop begins clicking through the photos. “Nothing off so far. Although he had a few newspaper cuttings of the SecNav.”

Tony nods and looks at his watch. “We’re missing something with this guy,” he frowns at the plasma. “Where is he now?”

“Stewing in Interrogation,” Gibbs says with satisfaction.

Tony flashes him a feral grin. “He wants to chat, let’s give him a chat.”

Before they can begin moving to Interrogation, a squeal followed by a shrieked “Tonyyyyyyyyyyy!” is heard. Tony braces himself when he sees Abby run down the hallway, and flashes a quick warning look to his protective detail – not to interfere. She launches herself at him, hugging him with arms and legs.

Tony grunts on impact and staggers for a moment before he steadies himself and hugs Abby back. “Fuck, Abby. You just saw me on Saturday,” he grumbles, kissing her temple.

“I know! But I haven’t seen you in the bullpen, well since you left, mister.”

Tony laughs, and gently disengages from Abby. “Gotta go to Interrogation, Abs.”

“Just like old times!” Abby rubs her hands together. “I heard you were in the building and wanted to come say hi. Don’t leave without saying goodbye, OK?”


	3. I know there is no tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Gibbs do their thing in Interrogation. A few awkward moments. Then some action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for you guys! I'll try to post the next one late tonight. Loving your comments! Thank you! :D

Observation is full of people. Tony’s protective detail, the two interns, the MCRT, Vance and the technician all crowd into the room. Tony watches Klein sit there for a few minutes, looking fairly normal. Then Chas gasps as he reaches into what looks to be a Zegna suit jacket, very expensive, and pulls a gun from a shoulder holster. He hands it butt first, to Wilson, one of his Marines. He reaches down to his ankle and pulls the gun out from the ankle holster he apparently wears and hands that to Wilson as well.

“Fuck, Tony. I don’t even know why they gave you a protective detail,” McGee exclaims, seeing that Tony still carries the same firepower that he used to.

“I tell Sarah that all the time,” Tony shrugs. “But it’s nice cause we like to see whose range scores are the best, right Wilson?”

“Right, sir,” Wilson says, grinning, and Tony rolls his eyes at the twinkle in Wilson’s eye. Wilson had beat Tony the last time they went out to the range.

Tony hesitates a moment, then he takes his Patek Phillippe off his wrist and hands that to Wilson too. “Be gentle with that thing, huh?”

“Will do, sir.”

“Um, sir?” Chas asks.

“What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that, Newbie?” Tony gives her a disapproving look. “You’re gonna encourage baby Probie over there.”

“I mean, Boss? Why are you disarming to go in there? Won’t you need to be armed and like, protected?” Chas feels dumb asking it, but she knew she would be more comfortable facing a psycho armed.

“Probie! Answer the Newbie’s question!” Tony barks.

And McGee, Bishop and the actual Probie, all three recite the regulation about guns in Interrogation, something everybody learned at FLETC. Tony’s delighted laugh is infectious, and Kyle, Vance and Gibbs find themselves joining him. “Jesus! They all three answer to Probie!” Then he flashes a grin at Gibbs. “You doing this with me?”

Gibbs flushes at the playful tone in Tony’s voice. “Lead on, DiNozzo.”

Tony takes a moment to look at Wilson and Ortiz, and they nod slightly. They will stay in Observation. He snaps a finger at Kyle who says, “Got it, Boss,” and pulls out his phone. He looks despairingly at Chas before he and Gibbs leave Observation.

Jordan and Chas both heave an audible sigh of relief.

“Is he always like that?” Jordan asks McGee.

“He’s actually toned down since my probie days,” McGee grins.

“Bossier now though,” Bishop comments.

“You have no idea,” Kyle chimes in, chuckling, as he busily taps his phone.

Gibbs opens the door and lets Tony enter before him. Tony sits across from Klein, crossing his legs elegantly, posture ramrod straight while Gibbs leans against the wall behind him, slouching carelessly. Bishop and McGee grin at Vance. They have seen this act a thousand times.

“Hello, Mr Klein,” Tony says, affecting a professional tone. “I’m Under Secretary of the Navy, Anthony DiNozzo. I was asked to personally be here to speak to you this morning, on behalf of Sarah Porter the Secretary of the Navy?”

Klein has been staring wide-eyed at Tony ever since he walked into the room. “You’re even prettier than Sarah,” he breathes. “Anthony, did you say?”

Chas gasps as Tony smiles and simpers. “You can call me Tony,” he says, not overtly seductive but a hint, a suggestion of something else in his voice and in his eyes.

They watch as Tony and Gibbs tag team, Tony purring, coaxing and cajoling Klein into revealing where three of the bombs are, as a gesture of good faith, and Gibbs doing his grizzly bear impression, perfect counterpoint to each other. When Klein tries to reach across the table to touch Tony, Gibbs slams his palm on the table and screams at Klein to stay seated and not to move, spittle flying, clearly shocking the poor man. Then after the bomb squad in Norfolk confirm that the three bombs have been found and are being worked on, McGee knocks on the glass. He sees Gibbs’ slight nod, acknowledging the information.

Tony is trying to get Klein to divulge where the other five bombs are and Klein finally covers his face and admits that ‘he’ won’t like it if he told.

“Who is he, Jim,” Tony asks, keeping his eyes soft and mournful. “Tell me who he is.”

“I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

“Jim,” Tony reaches across the table and runs an index finger gently on the back of Klein’s hand, “you can tell me anything, you know that, right? I’ll do everything in my power to stop him from hurting you, or anyone else, Jim. You believe me, right?”

Klein looks first at the finger on his hand, then at Tony’s sympathetic eyes, then back at the finger on his hand. He starts breathing hard.

“Tell me where the other five bombs are, and tell me who is making you do this, Jim. He’s making you do this, right?” Tony’s tone is a velvety purr.

Klein gasps and looks into Tony’s eyes, now conveying his understanding of the situation. “He loves her, he said. He says she’s beautiful.”

“Who? Sarah?”

Klein nods. “But you-you’re even more…He sent me to talk to her in person because he wanted me to give her the message.”

“Can you give me the message?” Tony asks, leaning forward, his index finger tracing soft circles on the back of Klein’s hand. “You know I’m personally representing her.”

Klein’s breath hitches, and his eyes are wide, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed. Tony keeps his eyes on Klein’s surprisingly pretty brown ones.

Klein covers his face with his hands. “I can’t.”

“Jim, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. You want me to help you, don’t you? He sent you here, and he’s safe out there. It’s just not fair to you to have the take the fall all by yourself, don’t you think? Tell me everything so I can help you.”

“No, I can’t,” Klein says, trying to be firm.

Tony looks at him sadly, then turns to look at Gibbs who nods intensely. “Then I have to go, Jim. And Special Agent Gibbs here will do what he has to with you,” he pushes his chair back with a loud shriek of metal on concrete floor, stands up, and starts to walk to the door. Gibbs slips into the chair Tony just vacated and grins menacingly at Klein, looking as if he has just won the lottery. Klein starts gasping, and when Tony has the door halfway open he screams for Tony to wait.

Tony turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Jim?” he asks mildly.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he finally says.

Gibbs’ smile is pure evil now and Tony stands against the wall, hands in his pockets, slouching against it in the same position that Gibbs had been in a moment ago. Slowly Klein reveals the positions of all of the remaining bombs in Norfolk, confirms that there are no more, and reveals his accomplice’s name. The message for Porter had been simply, “Remember me?” and Klein didn’t know its significance, didn’t know why Sarah Porter had been requested in person, didn’t know why a face to face had been so important. Tony gently prods him, circling around him both verbally and physically and until he reveals everything that he knows. His accomplice built all the devices, while Klein had access to plant them. The whole plan had been his accomplice’s.

When they are satisfied that Klein has told them everything, Tony leans down, places a hand on Klein’s back, and puts his lips close to Klein’s ear. “Thank you, Jim,” he says huskily. Klein visibly shudders. As Tony turns away he grabs Tony’s wrist. Lightning quick, Tony twists Klein’s arm and pins him face-down on the tabletop, his legs pushing Klein’s, spreading them – a classic cop move, smoothly executed as if Tony hasn’t had a year and a half away from it.

Gibbs’ feral snarl makes Klein whimper even more.

“If I let you go, Jim, are you going to behave?” Tony’s tone is still smooth as silk, even as he twists Klein’s arm tighter behind his back, making him yell in pain.

“I will, Tony. I will. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Klein begs.

“Good,” Tony purrs, and releases him, while Gibbs sits Klein back down in his chair, hard, keeping his eye on the man as he backs out of the room behind Tony.

They return to Observation, Gibbs noticing with a pang that Tony has fallen into position a half step behind him on his six. Chas, Jordan and even Kyle stare, wide-eyed at Gibbs and Tony as they walk in. McGee and Bishop have run off to follow up on all the information. Tony calls Porter to update her, and ask about the accomplice and his message to her. Sarah has to think hard before she realizes he had been her junior prom date.

Tony shakes his head as he hangs up. “Junior prom date?” he says disbelievingly. “What the fuck is wrong with people? You can’t call your junior prom date to say ‘remember me’? You gotta set nine bombs in a naval base to do it?”

Vance claps Tony on the shoulders. “Fuck, DiNozzo, you have not lost your touch!” he laughs.

Tony grins. “I was kind of disappointed I had to go all Jessica Rabbit on him. I really, really wanted to pull a Ziva, sit in the chair, clean my fingernails with my knife. But shit, that was fun!” he grins at Vance and Gibbs. “I really missed doing that.”

“Boss, that was fucking amazing!” Kyle crows. “I thought shit like that only happened in the movies! Hey, do you think we could get a copy of this? I think the Boss’s staff would love to see him in action like this. We only get the tame version of him.”

Gibbs snorts. “That _was_ the tame version of him,” he inclines his head to Klein. “We’ve had some good times in that room over the years.”

“Good times,” Tony nods and smiles at Gibbs, the first open smile in a long time, and Gibbs finds himself smiling back.

“If your staff wants to, I bet Abby could put together a ‘best of DiNozzo’ interrogation montage and screen it in MTAC sometime,” Vance suggests.

“What?” Tony looks shocked.

“Oh fuck, yeah!” Kyle is ecstatic. “Boss, say yes, please. It’ll be the best farewell present for me. Like ever, Boss.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “What am I gonna do without you, Kyle?” he smiles. “You gotta grow up and go do something as boring as teach?”

Kyle grins. “We had a good run, Boss.”

“Sure did,” Tony says fondly. “Well if Leon says it’s OK and if Abby has the time, I suppose I don’t see why you can’t do it.”

“Yes!”

Tony grins and everyone waits while Wilson hands him his weapons and his watch, which are stowed about his person quickly. Tony glances at the time. “Getting close to lunch time. Kyle, tell Lois and George we’re going to stay here until we have confirmation that all the threats have been neutralized. Then we’ll leave the MCRT to figure the rest of it out and bring in SecNav’s old boytoy. In the meantime please arrange lunch for all of us?”

“Will do, Boss. Newbie, with me,” Kyle takes his phone out and walks out into the hallway.

Tony takes a nostalgic walk around his old building, stopping to chat with his old co-workers. He stands in front of HR and recalls the headslap and Rule 5, and smiles to himself. He goes down to Evidence and says hello and flirts with the baggie bunnies. He gets in the elevator and flips the emergency switch, scaring his escorts when the elevator stalls and darkens. He smiles sadly at them, shaking his head, “This was my Boss’s office,” he says softly. He flips the switch to reactivate the elevator. They visit Ducky and Palmer in Autopsy, and have a cup of tea together. In Forensics, Tony and Abby dance crazily to her music before she settles in his lap and tells him what she is working on and what she has found so far.

Finally he wanders back into the bullpen where McGee, Bishop and Jordan are busily working.

“Baby Probie,” Tony smiles when Jordan’s head flips up and his expression is pure deer in headlights. “Do you mind if I sit my ass down in my old chair for a minute?”

“Uh, no, I mean sure, go ahead,” Jordan jumps up.

Tony walks around the chair, touching it carefully with his hands, before he lowers himself into a sitting position. He grins at McGee and Bishop, leans back, puts his feet on the desk, ankles crossed, and leans back, arms behind his head, stretching his long, lean body, re-familiarizing himself with the chair that has molded itself to his body over the years, and now re-molds itself to his form. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes. “Baby Probie, hand me a blank piece of paper,” he orders, eyes closed, holding out one hand.

Obediently Jordan tears off a sheet from his notepad and places it in Tony’s hand. Tony crumples it and, eyes still closed, throws it in a beautiful arc, right into McGee’s trash can.

McGee and Bishop burst out laughing, and amazingly applause comes from other parts of the squad room. Surprised, Tony opens his eyes and sits up. Many eyes are on the bullpen, watching Tony’s antics. His ears turn pink and he grins. “You’d think you guys have never seen me do that before,” he tells the room with an easy grin. “You gonna applaud me if I do spitballs next?”

And then suddenly Tony is receiving hugs from his old co-workers in the squad room, coming around his old desk. When Gibbs walks into the bullpen, the atmosphere changes, and people back away from Tony, suddenly apprehensive of what might happen between these two. Their breakup has become exaggerated to epic proportions.

Tony looks around, “Wow, this is even more awkward than when Jenny became Director,” he mutters to Gibbs.

Gibbs looks at him in exasperation. “Really? You gonna bring her up today?”

“Seemed appropriate.”

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “You want me to head slap you?”

“Might actually make everyone feel better, to be honest.”

Gibbs growls under his breath before he looks around. “What? Ain’t never seen DiNozzo at his own fucking desk before?” he barks, and people scramble away, as he shakes his head.

“Nice, Gibbs,” Tony grins. “Classic.”

Gibbs smiles at him, unable to hold it in. “Looked good behind your desk, Tony.”

“Not my desk anymore,” Tony says softly, eyes suddenly sad.

Gibbs’ smile turns nostalgic. “I know. But it’ll always be your desk to me.”

Tony inclines his head at Jordan. “You can sit back down now, baby Probie.”

“Uh, thank you sir,” Jordan stammers.

Tony rolls his eyes and glares at McGee. “McSeniorFieldAgent, I swear if your baby Probie calls me sir one more fucking time, I’m going to beat the crap out of _you_. Train him better, for fuck’s sake.”

McGee rolls his eyes. “He’s a fucking work in progress,” he grumbles. “Not my fault Gibbs keeps scaring the damned Probies away before I can finish my work on them.”

“How long have you lasted?” Tony asks Jordan.

“Uh, going on four months, uh…”

“Watch what your next word is, baby Probie,” Tony clucks his tongue. “Or your Senior Field Agent will get the shit kicked out of him.”

“Like you can still kick my ass, Tony,” McGee taunts. “You’re in a cushy job, no running after perps, no getting the snot beaten out of you by Marines on LSD. Ah, the high life.”

Tony laughs. “I’ll always be able to kick your skinny ass, Elf Lord.”

McGee grins happily. “Feels like you never left, Tony.”

“Good to be back, Tim,” Tony smiles.

Gibbs places a hand gently on Tony’s wrist. “Speak to you?” he says softly.

Tony looks down at the hand on his wrist until Gibbs moves it away uncomfortably. He looks into Gibbs’ face, trying to see what Gibbs would want to talk about, but sees no hint. “Uh, sure. Your office?”

Gibbs shakes his head. “The gossip mill would spontaneously combust if we did that,” he grins. He jerks his head, and Tony follows him, gesturing to his detail to wait. They walk to the other side of the orange stairs and turn their backs to the bullpen. McGee, Bishop and Kyle aren’t the only ones craning their necks, openly staring at the two men as they speak, heads close together, carefully not touching.

“Been wanting to call you,” Gibbs says in an undertone.

Tony frowns.

“Can I maybe take you out to dinner?”

Tony blinks, surprised. “Why?”

“I feel like…” Gibbs breaks away, and tries to gather his scattered thoughts, Tony’s green eyes on him causing him to lose focus. “I’d like to talk to you,” he finally says, “without an audience.”

Tony frowns, biting his lip. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Aren’t we making things even harder for ourselves?”

Gibbs sighs. “When I saw you on Saturday, I could see it in your eyes. I’m sure you saw it in mine.”

“Saw what?”

“That we’re not done with other,” Gibbs says carefully. “I don’t know, maybe if we have a final conversation then we’ll be done, and we’ll be able to let each other go completely?”

Tony takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out. “Who says I haven’t let you go completely?”

Gibbs gives him a small smile. “UnderSex? Ya think I won’t hear what they’re calling you?”

Tony blushes crimson.

“No strings, Tony. One dinner. One quiet conversation. Please?”

“Let me think about it,” Tony says reluctantly.

“That’s fair,” Gibbs nods. “Good work with Klein this morning.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve really missed you,” Gibbs whispers.

Tony’s face grows hot, “Not here,” he says shortly, and walks away, back to the bullpen. Luckily they are spared more awkwardness when Kyle returns and announces that food has arrived and is being set up in the conference room, and that he has ordered enough for the entire squad room.

Tony smiles his thanks, ignoring the inquiring look from Kyle. He wipes his expression clean, and plants the jovial mask on firmly. He gestures to Kyle, who nods and climbs on McGee’s table, whistling for attention, this act reminiscent of Gibbs announcing the opening of the envelope with white powder – the infamous Y. pestis affair – and Tony suppresses a shiver at its memory.

“Your attention please, lunch is served in the conference room. There is enough for everyone. Please help yourselves,” Kyle announces clearly. “Thank you!”

They wait until the conference room empties a little before the MCRT, Vance, Ducky, Palmer and Abby join Tony and his people for lunch. Tony bullies Wilson and Ortiz into sitting and eating like civilized people, citing that they are at NCIS Headquarters, and nobody would be crazy enough to take him out right there.

Kyle has arranged a make your own burrito bar for lunch and Tony happily builds his burrito and swipes a bottle of water before sitting. He pulls out his knife and flicks it open with a menacing metallic snick, making Chas jump in shock. The sight of the urbane man in his expensive designer suit casually and expertly unfolding a switchblade is completely unexpected. As he cuts his burrito in half, Tony looks at Chas’s horrified expression. “Newbie, we have a problem?”

Chas shakes her head, eyes still wide, as she attempts to cut her burrito with a plastic knife.

Tony sighs, and looks at Kyle in disappointment. “Have you not told her some of the more important rules, Kyle?” he asks softly.

“I told her, Tony,” Kyle says, his mouth full. “I don’t think she believed me when I told her you expected her to carry a knife. I think she thought I was hazing her.”

Chas looks around, “Seriously, who carries a knife anyways?” she asks.

“Rule 9,” McGee, Bishop, Jordan, Kyle and Gibbs chorus, holding up their knives. Abby pulls one out of her boot and twirls it around dangerously before slipping it back into her boot. Chas’s eyes get even wider at this display.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at Kyle. “Let Newbie use your damned knife because if I have to keep watching her struggle with that plastic thing, I’m going to take it away from her and stab her with it,” he complains. “And don’t think I won’t do any damage with it, Newbie. My old partner could kill you with a paper clip. Believe me I picked some tricks up from her.”

“Boss, you’re not allowed to stab your new interns,” Kyle says placidly, handing his knife to Chas, handle first.

“Just my old ones?” he snaps back. Tony moans appreciatively after his first bite. “Kyle, did you get this from my favorite Mexican place a block over?”

“You starred it on your phone,” Kyle says smugly.

“Nice job figuring me out. I won’t stab you after all,” Tony tells him, smiling. The group sits at the table, eating and chatting happily. The topic turns to the interrogation that Kyle just witnessed.

“Boss, you totally played him like a piano!” Kyle was still enthusiastic.

Tony grins and shrugs. “You should watch Gibbs’ team in action. McGee over here is devious, and he gives you his puppy dog eyes and you’re baring your soul to him. And Bishop and her mindtraps.”

“And the Bossman,” Abby grins.

“Gibbs in Interrogation, way better than reality TV. Talk about playing them like a piano,” Tony grins at Gibbs, saluting him with his knife. Gibbs grins back.

“Speaking of pianos, in the almost fifteen years I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you play your piano Tony,” McGee says. “What’s up with that?”

“I don’t play for people, McNosy,” Tony tells him airily.

“I bet you don’t even know how to play. I bet it’s just for show,” Bishop goads him. “Kyle, has he ever played for you guys?”

“Nuh-uh. Not ever. I’m with you Bishop. I bet he can’t play a lick,” Kyle grins at Tony.

“Oh he plays beautifully,” Gibbs says quietly, which silences the table. “Sings like a fucking nightingale too.”

Tony chokes on his food and coughs hard, and Kyle smacks him on his back, staring in amazement at Gibbs. When Tony recovers, he glares at Gibbs who grins at him unrepentantly. He mutters choice words under his breath, knowing that he is red-faced, and not just from choking. He knows that his friends are avidly watching their interactions. Slowly conversation returns to normal.

After lunch, Tony wants to get coffee from the coffee cart outside their building, and asks Gibbs to come with him. His detail hovers close to him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses as they wait in line.

“I was defending you,” Gibbs says innocently.

“You were _defending_ me? From what, exactly?”

“I’ve heard you play. I was just contributing to the conversation.”

“You were contributing to the conversation?”

“You gonna repeat everything I say?”

Tony throws his hands up. “Fuck, Gibbs. I don’t think I can take this.”

“Come have dinner with me,” Gibbs says. “Please.”

Tony sighs and purses his lips. He is about to answer when he hears his name called. He turns to look and the moment will feature strongly in Gibbs’ nightmares for years to come. As he turns, blood explodes from his torso and he falls to the ground. Immediately, Gibbs covers his body with his own, gun out, scanning for the gunman, and the Marines on his detail begin dragging Tony to cover, shielding him with their own bodies.

“Sniper,” Gibbs tells the Marine, “from that direction,” he points.

They are radioing for assistance and an ambulance, and Gibbs calls McGee, yelling instructions into the phone as they round the corner, away from the line of fire.

“Oh fuck, Tony,” Gibbs sees too much blood. He tears his jacket off and jams it into Tony’s shoulder, causing the younger man to yell in pain. Gibbs’ heart is pounding in his chest. If Tony hadn’t turned to look at whoever called him, he would have been hit right in the center of his chest instead of the shoulder.

“Through and through, shoulder wound,” Wilson says into his radio. “We need a bus. The Under is hit. The Under is hit.”

Amazingly, Tony begins to laugh, huge belly laughs as Gibbs and his protective detail stare at him in bewilderment.

“Shock?” Ortiz says to Wilson.

Tony continues to laugh, tears falling from his eyes. “I’m not in shock,” he gasps. Gibbs kneels next to him, clasping him tightly to his chest as Wilson applies pressure on the jacket and has put his own jacket on the exit wound, applying pressure there as well. “This is just fucking hilarious.”

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” Gibbs looks around, finally registering that people are screaming and scattering, even though there have been no other shots.

“Eighteen months and I wasn’t punched, shot at, stabbed, kidnapped, or infected with medieval diseases, not even once, and one morning at the Navy Yard and I get shot?” Tony laughs hysterically. “It’s fucking hilarious!”

Gibbs finds himself laughing along with Tony. “You are one crazy motherfucker, sweetheart,” he grins. “Now, get a grip. Calm down, please.”

“Did you see how Wilson and Ortiz dragged me out of the way? Like I’m a bad cat?” he laughs even harder. “Plus, did you hear it? ‘The Under is hit’,” he mocks Wilson.

“OK,” Gibbs looks at Wilson, “I think _now_ the jackass is in shock.”

Wilson pushes down hard on the jackets.

“Ow!” Tony yells. “I’m fine, goddammit.”

“Sir, you were shot!”

“Not my first time, Wilson,” Tony says, and he smiles beatifically at Gibbs. “You sure look hot today, Jethro.”

“Oh fuck, he’s definitely in shock now. There’s too much blood. Did the fucking bullet nick an artery?” Gibbs growls. “Where’s that fucking ambulance? Stay with me, sweetheart,” he says urgently, patting Tony’s face as he holds Tony’s hand tighter, feeling Tony’s grip on his hand loosen slowly, and the smile on Tony’s face gets goofier as he keeps losing blood and his grip on consciousness.

The paramedics arrive and Tony is quickly strapped onto a gurney and they begin working on him. His detail will accompany him to the hospital.

“Watch his six,” Gibbs orders them curtly, forcing himself to let go of Tony’s hand, and to not to get into the ambulance with him. He has work to do in order to keep Tony safe. “Call Dr Brad Pitt to consult. I’m gonna go find the cocksucker that did this. Keep me posted on what the doctors say. Stay with him until we find the guy. Keep him safe, Marine.”

“Good hunting, Gunny.”


	4. Scared of having nothing left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's recovery - do we see the UnderSex on painkillers? A phone conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this earlier this evening but I fell asleep on my sofa. But here it is. Thanks!

It is after midnight before Gibbs is able to make his way to Tony’s room in Bethesda. He flashes his ID to the two Marines guarding his door and they wave him in. They aren’t the same two from earlier in the day.

“Is he awake?” Gibbs asks softly.

“Yeah. He’s refusing painkillers, Gunny,” one says, nodding, looking worried. “He says it makes him loopy.”

Gibbs nods. “I’ll take care of it,” he tells them.

“Is it over? We heard you got the guy.”

“We got him. He’s gonna be locked up in Leavenworth forever,” Gibbs says grimly. He knocks on the door and goes in.

Tony is sitting up, the bed angled up as high as it will go. One arm is strapped securely to his chest and he is tapping on an iPad with his good arm, ignoring the IV lines in him, a bluetooth speaker in his ear.

“Seriously, I am fine, Sarah,” he says quietly. He gives Gibbs a smile and rolls his eyes at his phone. “Yeah, I’ll be back at work in the morning. Barely a scratch. Look, Gibbs is here and I want to hear how the investigation went. Right. OK I will take tomorrow off. I promise. Right. Have fun in Manila. Bye.”

He pulls the bluetooth off his ear and throws it on the bed with relief.

“SecNav?” Gibbs asks.

“She thinks one tiny bullet’s gonna keep me down,” Tony grins. “She obviously does not know me as well as she thinks she does.” He gestures to the chair. “Sit. Give me details.”

So Gibbs sits and tells him that the shooter had been the SecNav’s junior prom date, and Sarah Porter had been the original target. They had tracked him down and apprehended him in Virginia, and he had confessed to everything – no political agendas, basically just a guy obsessed with Sarah Porter, especially after a bad conduct discharge from the Navy coincides with Porter’s appointment as the SecNav. McGee and Bishop were still at work, tying up the loose ends and starting the paperwork.

“Damned nutjob,” Tony frowns.

“Looks like.”

“Well, good job getting him.”

“Not before he shot you,” Gibbs looks guilty.

“Not your fault, Gibbs,” Tony assures him. “He was out for Sarah and got me instead. Hey, I’ll get to tell her I took a bullet for her,” he grins wickedly.

Gibbs scrutinizes him, noticing the lines of pain around his eyes and his mouth. “You should let them give you something for the pain, sweetheart,” he says softly.

Tony’s grin fades. “I’m fine.”

“You were shot today.”

“Through and through. Didn’t hit bone.”

“Nicked an artery. You lost a lot of blood out there.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not gonna sleep tonight if you don’t take something.”

“I don’t need crazy loopy UnderSex to get out there, OK?” Tony snaps. “For the last time, I am fine.”

“I’ll stay and not let anyone in until you’re not loopy anymore.”

Tony shakes his head, his eyes sad. “I don’t want you hearing what loopy shit I’m gonna say. No filters. I don’t even want to imagine what I might say to you.”

“I probably deserve whatever you say to me.”

“No.”

“I won’t hold it against you, sweetheart.”

Tony sighs. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“I can’t help myself. Shit I thought I lost you today,” Gibbs moves his chair closer. Tony sees that Gibbs’ fingers are trembling. “And then you started fucking laughing like a maniac. You really scared me.” Gibbs’ eyes are intense as they gaze into his. “Fuck, Tony. After you were hit, for just a split second, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead. I’m just winged, is all.”

“I know that now, sweetheart. But you don’t need to sit here in pain when they can help you with that. I promise I won’t hold anything you say against you. I’ll stay and watch your six and let you get some rest. Please, sweetheart.”

Tony groans.

“Besides, I promised your people that I’d get you to rest. They’re really worried. Wilson and Ortiz have been calling me all day to find out how we’re doing, and to keep me informed on your condition. George and Lois called to tell me you kicked them out because they were nagging you about getting pain relief and asked me to do something about it. Your people love you, Tony. Let me do this and get you to rest so they can stop worrying about you for a few hours.”

“No fair,” Tony pouts. “I can’t believe they’re all calling you now. Traitors.”

“They just care about you. They know I care, too.”

“Not fair,” Tony turns away.

“Sweetheart, listen to reason.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that anymore!” Tony’s voice shakes with his anger. “I can’t _take_ it when you say that. We are fucking _over_. There _nothing_ between us.”

“Then why are you so angry? Are you really that angry with me?”

“ _Fuck_ you.”

“You don’t even know what to call me anymore, do you? Is it because you still want to call me Jethro?”

“Get the fuck out, _Gunny._ ”

Gibbs scrubs his hand over his face, willing himself not to get pulled into the screaming match Tony seems to be dying for. He puts one hand on Tony’s, and cups his cheek with the other, forcing the younger man to look at him. “You need the meds,” he says firmly. “You’re going to actually remember this conversation tomorrow and be even angrier at yourself for whatever it is you think you shouldn’t say to me. And I don’t want to have it out with you when you’re out of your mind with pain, and in the fucking hospital. So please. Do everyone a fucking favor, take the goddamn painkillers, get high and loopy, pass the fuck out, and tomorrow it will all look better. If you want I will fucking stand outside your door with your detail, and stop everybody from coming in so you can get some rest and have no witnesses to your UnderSexed loopiness. And then I won’t have heard whatever it is you’re afraid you’ll say to me under the influence.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “You’d stand outside my door?”

“Like a goddamned St. Bernard.”

Tony’s eyes soften at Gibbs’ mention of the St. Bernard. Tony had been Gibbs’ loyal St. Bernard for years. “You’re more pit bull than St. Bernard.”

“Pit bull. Fine,” Gibbs rolls his eyes. “OK? I’m gonna call the nurse. She will give you the happy juice, and I will stand outside with your detail. I will make sure nobody comes in until you’re yourself again.”

Tony looks at him suspiciously. “Your word, you won’t come in here while I’m conscious?”

“You mean you’re OK with me coming in here after you pass out?”

“Well, it’d be bad for your knee to stand out there all night. There’s a chair in here.”

Gibbs smiles at him. “OK then. I will only come back in after I’m sure you’ve passed out.”

After the nurse injects the contents of a syringe into his IV, there is an almost immediate change. Tony’s face smooths out, and he smiles at Gibbs, eyes getting glassy. “I hate that you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says softly.

“And that’s my cue, sweetheart,” Gibbs says. He leans forward, kisses Tony’s forehead. “I’m gonna be right outside until you fall asleep OK?”

“Wish you’d stay with me,” Tony says breathily.

Gibbs scrambles out of there before he accidentally breaks his word and hears more things that Tony doesn’t want him to hear. He shuts the door behind him and smiles awkwardly at the two Marines.

“He wants no witnesses to his loopiness,” he mutters.

“So you got him to take the meds?”

“Big fight, but yeah. I get to stay out here and not let anybody in on pain of death, until he’s passed out.”

The two men grin. “He’s a character.”

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “Is he ever.”

“You were there when it went down, right? Is it true his reaction to being shot was to laugh?”

Gibbs shakes his head in disbelief. “True story.”

“Ortiz said that and I just couldn’t believe it. He’s crazy tough, our Under!” the Marine said with pride.

“Nicest guy ever, Gunny. Never met brass like him before,” the other one said.

“Fuck, Morales, you know he’d kick your ass if he heard you calling him brass,” the first one says.

Gibbs laughs and shoots the breeze with these two men who have been watching Tony’s six for all these months. After a half hour, Gibbs carefully opens the door and peeks in. He hears Tony singing softly to himself, and it sounds like the last song Gibbs heard him sing, and he quickly shuts the door, staying outside. After another fifteen minutes, he opens the door again.

“Right, I think he’s out,” he tells the Marines. “Gonna keep watch inside. Stay sharp out here.”

He closes the door behind him and walks to the bed. Tony’s breathing is shallow and even and he is uncomfortably turned onto his good side, the bed still fully upright. Gibbs carefully reclines it to a more comfortable angle and brushes his hand through Tony’s hair. The thin hospital gown shows off Tony’s toned physique – he has been working out, Gibbs thinks. He resists the urge to run his fingers over Tony’s body. Instead he takes the phone, bluetooth and iPad away and places them on the bedside table. He calls Ducky, Lois and Wilson to let them know that Tony is finally resting, and, wishing that he had thought to grab a cup of coffee, sits in the chair by the bed, holding Tony’s hand and occasionally stroking Tony’s face.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time during the night Tony slowly struggles back into awareness and realizes that he is in a bed in a hospital. One arm is strapped to his chest, and for some reason Gibbs is holding his other hand. Gibbs is sleeping with his head basically in Tony’s lap. He wonders why Gibbs is here. Is this a dream?

He frowns at this for a second before another wave of exhaustion and pain hits him, and he closes his eyes and slides back into the darkness.

When George arrives early the next morning, he finds Tony still passed out and Gibbs sleeping with his head on Tony’s leg, holding Tony’s hand, fingers laced together. He backs out carefully and decides to go get coffee and not be the one to wake the two up.

Gibbs’ nose wakes him up when Ducky waves a cup of coffee under his nose. He sits up and releases Tony’s hand, smiling at his old friend.

“Oh, Jethro,” Ducky says, “I thought we were done sitting by Anthony’s bedside in a hospital after he stopped being a field agent.”

Gibbs smirks. “Ya think?” he sips the coffee. “How is he, Duck?”

Ducky makes a face. “Despite some worrying blood loss yesterday, he’s extremely lucky. The bullet missed bone and major muscles. They will probably be forced to release him today.”

“You mean I’ll sign myself out, right, Ducky?” Tony’s sleepy voice surprises them.

“Anthony,” Ducky smiles at the younger man and gives him an affectionate hug, patting the back of his head gently. “You gave us all a scare yesterday, young man.”

Tony yawns. “Only you can get away with calling me that, Ducky. Hate to break it to you but I’m really not a young man anymore.”

“You will always be one to me, Anthony,” Ducky says fondly. “How is the pain this morning?”

“Bearable,” Tony mumbles.

“So, just shy of excruciating, then?” Ducky is gentle.

“Won’t keep me in bed,” Tony deflects. “I need the head,” he says, holding his good hand out to Gibbs who wordlessly helps him up and out of the bed. He refuses help as he pads carefully to the attached bathroom, dragging his IV pole with him but refusing to lean on it, and choosing to ignore the fact that both Ducky and Gibbs have an unobstructed view of his bare ass. Both of them have seen it before, he tells himself, certainly Gibbs has seen plenty of it. For his part, Gibbs is unable to take his eyes off of that bared expanse of golden flesh – his back and his ass. Tony’s ass was definitely sculpted now, and the muscles of his thighs look longer, leaner. Tony has definitely been working out, he thinks.

When Tony closes the bathroom door, Ducky gently touches his arm. “You’re drooling, Jethro,” he says mildly.

Gibbs gives himself a mental shake. It is unlike him to telegraph his feelings so openly, but seeing Tony again has thrown him completely off. “Sorry, Duck,” he says quietly.

Ducky nods understandingly. “He has always been easy on the eye, has our Anthony.”

“Yep,” Gibbs blushes, suddenly realizing that he is discussing Tony with Ducky. He clears his throat and sips his coffee. Luckily, Tony shuffles back out before Ducky can say anything else.

“Where’s George?” he asks. “He said he was coming this morning. I want my go bag and I want to leave.”

“Why don’t you get in bed and wait for him?” Ducky says. “If you’re going to go without pain relief, you should at least sit as much as you can and stop jostling that arm.”

“It’s bound so tight to my body I couldn’t even jostle it if I wanted to, Ducky,” Tony complains, but he accepts Gibbs’ arm in helping him back into the bed. He gestures to the side table and Gibbs hands him his phone, and Tony thanks him with a small smile while Ducky rearranges the sheets and pulls it up to Tony’s waist. It’s all so familiar yet somehow all so different with Tony in the hospital this time, Gibbs thinks, and he tries to figure out what the difference is. Finally while Tony is on the phone and again gestures to the table, and Gibbs grabs the iPad and hands it to him, he realizes it. This Tony is much more assertive. He doesn’t even ask for things. He has taken a page out of Gibbs’ own playbook, conveying his needs non-verbally and expecting them to be fulfilled. And seeing how Tony’s staff responds to him, and his protective detail, and now even Gibbs himself, Tony seems to have figured it out very well, all the while he is still completely himself. He has managed to be commanding without being a bastard. The Tony that he knew before is definitely present, but has somehow been enhanced during his year and a half away from NCIS.

A quiet knock and George pokes his head in carefully, and when he sees that Tony is up and on the phone he comes in with a big smile.

“Boss, you’re awake,” he grins. He brings a carrier of to go cups, handing one each to Gibbs, Ducky, and Tony, keeping one for himself. After Tony gets off the phone, he opens a box of pastries. “Kyle went to your favorite patisserie Boss and got a selection.”

Tony smiles at him, and happily inhales the aroma of chocolate from his cup. He sips it, “Marshmallows?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“And whipped cream. Kyle was very specific.”

Tony nods and sighs as he sips his hot chocolate. He nods to Ducky, Gibbs and George to start on the pastries, and the three men obey. Now that Gibbs has noticed this new trait of Tony’s, this commanding Tony, he keeps seeing more examples of it. That quiet strength, that expectation of obedience somehow makes him even more attractive, fuck, definitely sexier. Gibbs’ thoughts flash into bed – would Tony’s strength translate to being more assertive in the bedroom as well? Not that he had ever been a wilting wallflower in that department, but Gibbs’ mind cannot help but wonder, how different would it be in bed with this new forceful Tony. And how much more exciting? Gibbs has to force his thoughts back into the present before his pants get any tighter.

Tony waits until they have each taken a pastry before he looks at George. “My go bag?” he asks politely.

George hands it to him, then asks Ducky if he can speak with him outside for a moment. Tony gives him a suspicious glare, but George just grins and waves his pastry at him while he ushers the elderly ME out the door.

“I don’t like that my staff is getting too chummy with yours,” Tony tells Gibbs. “They’re starting to take liberties.”

Gibbs grins. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

“Stupid free will,” he grouses. He puts his cup down on the table and starts pawing through his go bag. “Fuck! Stupid free will!” he curses. “Only pajama bottoms and tops? He’s trying to keep me here!”

“Didn’t even know you had pajamas.”

“Sleeping nude with Marines outside your door is just weird,” Tony makes a face. “Especially when you’re not at home. Easier to be dressed.”

“What about sleeping nude with a Marine in your bed?”

Tony glares at him. “We’re not going there right now,” he says tightly.

“Sorry. I don’t what it is about you but I can’t stop myself saying these things.”

Tony nods. There it was again, sorry on Gibbs’ tongue. Very odd. He turns back to his go bag and pulls out a pair of striped pajama bottoms. “Help me into these,” he tells Gibbs as he climbs off the bed. “I’m tired of having my ass hanging out for the world to see.” Gibbs sticks his Danish between his teeth to free his hands, brushes crumbs off his hands, and he carefully helps him step into the butter-soft pants, no doubt some expensive designer brand, and pulls it up, disappointed when Tony grabs the pants when they are halfway up his thighs, turns around, and pulls them all the way up himself. With his back to Gibbs, he starts reaching for the hospital gown ties one-armed, and Gibbs unties them for him. He lets Gibbs help him out of the gown and into the matching pajama top, ignoring Gibbs’ eyes on his bare chest – still lightly furred, still golden, muscles toned. Gibbs doesn’t bother trying to get his strapped arm into an armhole, just buttoning the top up with it around Tony’s injured shoulder, one sleeve empty. His fingers linger on Tony’s chest as he does up the buttons. He notices that Tony is holding his breath, and that the pulse point in his neck is racing. He stares into Tony’s pools of green, sees the pupils dilate slightly. He knows that his own eyes must be reacting the same way, his own breath coming in short pants.

Tony takes a step back from him, eyes still glazed. He blinks and turns his head away, and begins breathing again. Quietly he lets Gibbs help him back into the bed, and raises the back up as high as it can go so he is mostly sitting upright.

“You feel it too, don’t you,” Gibbs voice in his ear, makes him shudder and close his eyes.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” Tony says irritably, trying to slow his pulse.

Gibbs nods. “I’m going in a bit. McGee will be by to take your statement later.”

“Tell him to come to my office.”

“I’m guessing George and Ducky are conspiring to get you to stay.”

“He didn’t bring me shoes,” Tony says bitterly. “It’s gonna be hard enough to give those Marines out there the slip, but you know I can do that. But with no shoes? I’d have to steal some footwear. It’s fucking cold out. My toes hate being cold. George is cruel.”

“He just wants you to get better.”

“You know I hate hospitals.”

“Here, have a pastry,” Gibbs holds the box out to him.

Tony sighs and picks one out. “I’m stuck here aren’t I?”

Gibbs smiles sympathetically. “At least another day I’d guess.”

“Fuck,” the word is muffled around a mouthful of food.

George and Ducky return, both smiling happily.

“Here we go,” Tony mumbles under his breath to Gibbs.

“Anthony,” Ducky begins, “George has proposed a most satisfying option. Instead of you leaving today, against medical advice, you will stay here another twenty-four hours. But, before you begin your objections, your entire staff will be arriving in thirty minutes, and you can put in your usual work day, just here instead of at your office. That way you can keep the IV antibiotics going as long as the doctors want you to, and perhaps get more plasma later – you did lose quite a bit of blood yesterday. Also, apparently the SecNav has ordered Pentagon security not to let you in the building today so, really, you would be better off working from here with your staff, don’t you think?”

“Sarah did what?” Tony sputters.

“SecNav’s orders – no Tony DiNozzo in the Pentagon until tomorrow at the earliest. And apparently she’s talking to your physicians. So if you don’t behave today, Boss, she might not let you back to work tomorrow either,” George adds.

Tony throws himself back in the bed and angrily flings the half-eaten pastry into the bin by the door. “You guys are killing me,” he growls.

“No, Boss, that was the crazy dude with the rifle yesterday that was trying to kill you,” George says calmly, holding the box of pastries out to him. “Now shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“Fucking bossy free-willed staff,” Tony mutters, picking out a pastry and glaring at George. “Fine. We will do this your way today George. But don’t think this will work again tomorrow.”

“Of course not, Boss,” George grins at him.

“Now, Anthony,” Ducky says, “the nurse will bring you some ibuprofen for the pain. Tonight they will want to give you the, uh, good stuff again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tony says darkly.

“I’ll get you set up so you can start working, Boss. That’ll cheer you up,” George ignores Tony completely. Gibbs grins at the exchange. Tony has surrounded himself with people who are all watching his six, and who are all like family to him. He finishes his last bite of the excellent Danish, slurps the last of his coffee, and stands up.

“I better get to work,” he says. “I’ll be by later tonight?”

“Apparently I will be here,” Tony says grumpily.

Gibbs smiles at George and Ducky. He looks at the pouting Tony, his pouty lips still eminently kissable. Gibbs forces his mind away from that and pats Tony’s good hand awkwardly. “Try not to give your staff too hard a time.”

When Gibbs returns to the hospital that night, it is nearly midnight again. He grins at the Marines outside Tony’s door.

“The Under still up?”

“Oh yeah. Lois is in there trying to get him to take the good pain meds.”

“I don’t think she’s succeeding.”

Gibbs knocks once and opens the door. Tony is striding around the room dragging his IV pole with him while Lois follows.

“Tony! Come on. Take the fucking pain meds!”

“You better go before I kick you out, Lois,” Tony growls.

“For fuck’s sake, Boss. Why does this have to be so hard? Other people pay top dollar for this shit on the street.”

Tony’s growl is the only answer.

“Hey, Tony. Lois,” Gibbs nods to the diminutive dark-haired woman.

“Gibbs, maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Lois?” Tony’s eyes spit fire at Lois’s statement.

Gibbs can see that Tony is so exhausted he is ready to fall over, and that the pacing is his reaction to it and an attempt to hide his perceived weakness. He takes a gentle hold of Tony’s good elbow and leads him back to the bed. Tony climbs back into the bed, still glaring at Lois.

“You’re exhausted, Boss. Come on. Take the meds,” Lois gentles her tone.

“I get really loopy. I’m not doing it.”

“Seriously, you’re pretty loopy on a good day. I doubt the meds can make you any worse.”

Gibbs chuckles. “Oh yes they can.”

“Did I say something last night?” Tony narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Nope. I left before I heard anything damaging. Let’s do the same thing tonight. You take the meds, I stay out there until you’ve passed out, and I won’t let anyone in until then. Pit bull.” Gibbs holds his hand up in the boy scouts’ salute.

Tony breathes quietly for a moment before he nods. Lois gives Gibbs a thankful grin and grabs her purse and a pile of papers.

“Then I’m gonna go, Boss. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she comes over and gives Tony a kiss on the cheek despite his growl.

As he did the night before, Gibbs waits outside Tony’s room after the painkillers have been administered. Sarah Porter and her protective detail arrive while he is doing this.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Gibbs says politely, “but I gave Tony my word. I can’t let anybody in until he is unconscious. We finally got him to take the painkillers. He gets very loopy on them – he’s always had terrible reactions to them, Ma’am.”

Sarah Porter frowns at Gibbs. “How long has it been since they gave him the pain meds?”

Gibbs looks at his watch. “Maybe a half hour.”

“Then can we just check to see if he’s already out? I just need to look at him. Make sure he’s OK.”

Gibbs sighs. “Took about forty-five minutes last night.”

“Just please, let’s look.”

Gibbs cracks the door open and they immediately hear Tony talking to himself, his tone dreamy, the language questionable. Quickly, Gibbs closes the door. “Maybe in fifteen minutes?” he suggests.

“How loopy can he get?”

“Real loopy, Ma’am. Complete removal of brain to mouth filter.”

Porter takes a minute to look Gibbs up and down. “So,” she says. “You’re here.”

“Doesn’t really mean anything,” Gibbs says.

“But you want it to?”

“I never wanted him to leave,” Gibbs says quietly.

Porter nods. “Are you two…?”

Gibbs shakes his head curtly. “I was with him when he was shot.” They spend a few minutes talking about the case, and Tony’s new suggestions on how to upgrade Norfolk’s security, with regard to the bombs that had been set on the base.

Finally Gibbs looks at his watch and tries the door again. He pokes his head in. Tony’s back is to them and he is quiet.

Porter and Gibbs quietly walk in, and she watches as Gibbs lowers the bed, takes Tony’s gadgets away and arranges him more comfortably on the bed. Tony is completely out of it. He stirs, opens his eyes and smiles dreamily at Gibbs once before his eyes slide close again.

Porter stands and looks at her second for a long moment. She carefully takes his good hand and squeezes it.

“I can’t believe that my junior prom date did this to him,” she says quietly.

“He would have done it to you if you had been there personally,” Gibbs tells her.

“I know. I hate that Tony got shot instead of me.”

“He would be the first to tell you that it was better him than you.”

“He’s not an NCIS agent anymore. He’s not supposed to give his life for anyone else anymore.”

“Doubt he’ll be able to ever stop that, Ma’am. He was already like that when I got a hold of him.”

Porter sighs and nods. “His staff tells me he overdid it today. Worked the whole day, and he even walked around the hospital and visited with as many of the servicemen and women who are sick or injured that he could. This being a military hospital, there’s quite a few of them here.”

Gibbs smiles. “I’m not surprised.”

“He pushes himself too hard.”

“He always has, Ma’am. It’s one of the things that made him such a great agent.”

Porter nods again. “Are you staying the night?”

Gibbs nods. Seeing her frown he adds. “I won’t upset him Ma’am.”

Porter nods and gives Tony’s hand one final squeeze. “Thank you for your quick work closing the case. The damage could have been so much worse. And thank you for being there for Tony when it happened.”

They look at each other for a moment before Porter excuses herself and leaves. Gibbs runs his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony smiles in his sleep and Gibbs’ heart stutters. He pets Tony’s head again, rubbing his scalp, and Tony moans appreciatively in his sleep. Gibbs sighs, pulls the chair closer, and sits down, taking Tony’s hand in his.

When Tony wakes up in the morning, Gibbs is quietly sipping coffee, still holding his hand.

He smiles when he feels Tony’s eyes on him. “How are you feeling?” he asks, pouring him a cup of water.

Tony grunts noncommittally.

“SecNav was here last night. I didn’t let her in until we were sure you were out.”

Tony sips the water thirstily and nods. He holds his hand out and Gibbs helps him out of the bed. After he uses the head, he climbs back into bed and sighs.

“I’ll get them to bring you your ibuprofen. Your staff will be here soon. I’m gonna get to work.”

Tony nods.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Gibbs smiles and kisses his forehead. “I expect you’ll get yourself discharged today. Don’t overdo it again. Take care of yourself.”

Tony talks his staff into springing him and letting him work from home. They have re-jiggered his schedule so that he can stay in DC for the remainder of the week, doing video conferences instead of face to face meetings. But he plans to resume his normal schedule the next week despite Lois and George’s misgivings. He refuses to acknowledge that part of him that misses having Gibbs around, and that it bothers him that the older man doesn’t come to check on him at his apartment even though Ducky, Palmer, Abby, McGee and Bishop do.

One slightly unexpected outcome is that Chas Truman quit – apparently the Under Secretary’s quirks were a little too much for her own rigid structures, not to mention the attempted murder of her new boss four days after she started her audition period proved to be the final straw.

For the next two weeks, Tony throws himself into work, ignoring his shoulder and the ache in his heart at having seen Gibbs again. He is at a rowdy mixer in Okinawa when his cell phone rings.

“DiNozzo,” he yells into it without looking at the caller ID.

“Tony?” the familiar voice is completely unexpected.

“Gibbs?” Tony says stupidly. Gibbs starts talking but he cannot hear the words. “Hold on – can’t hear anything.” He ducks out onto a balcony, shivering at the cold. Okinawa is cold in March. “Is everything OK? Anybody hurt?”

“Nobody’s hurt. Everybody’s OK.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Wild party?”

“Okinawans like to live it up.”

The silence stretches out.

“How are you?” Gibbs finally asks.

“Never better.”

“Shoulder healing up?”

“It’ll be like new in a few days.”

“Uh, so…” Gibbs trails away.

Tony’s brain is whirling. Unsure of what to say, he stays silent, which is completely unlike him. He waits, listening to Gibbs’ breathing. He scrubs his face and sighs. “You’re not just gonna just stand there breathing creepily at me for the whole call, are you?” he finally asks.

He hears Gibbs’ embarrassed chuckle. “Had a whole speech prepared,” Gibbs admits.

“Well?”

“It boils down to, will you have dinner with me?”

Tony bites his lips and breathes through his teeth, before he shivers in the cold Okinawan night air. “I don’t know,” he finally answers.

“It really was good to see you again,” Gibbs continues. “Except for the you getting shot part.”

Tony shrugs. “Not the first time you’ve seen me get shot.”

Another long silence. Gibbs really is awful at social phone conversations, Tony thinks, and that makes him smile. Despite wanting to fill the silence with chatter, he is curious and wants to see what else Gibbs might say to him. This is a very different interaction than what they have ever had.

“So. Um. Dinner. With me. Please?”

Tony grins as he realizes that Gibbs has used more ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ and ‘sorrys’ with him in the past few weeks than in their entire fifteen years as partners. “My schedule is crazy. Yours is crazy. I won’t even be back in DC for a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll make time for you.”

Tony closes his eyes as pain stabs through him. These are words that he would have liked to hear when they had been together. Words that he’d craved, and never heard.

“We can go out somewhere. Public place.”

“Dinner, out, somewhere public?” Tony repeats. He sighs. All of these things, he had asked for but never received back then.

“Please.”

Tony sighs, hating that his eyes are starting to burn. Must be the fucking Okinawan cold night air, he tells himself ruthlessly.

“Please, Tony.”

Gibbs’ pleas are heartfelt. Tony can practically feel the pain in his voice. Gibbs does not beg, never says please, and here he is, on the phone – something else he loathes – asking him for one dinner. Tony blows out a breath. “Fine,” he says tightly. “One dinner. No strings.”

“No strings,” Tony can hear the smile in Gibbs’ voice as he agrees. “Tell me when you’re next in DC and have an evening open. I’ll make it work.”

“OK,” Tony nods. “I’ll text you the information.”

Silence again.

“Well, I’m gonna go now,” Tony says.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Fuck! Fuck him and his fucking sweethearts! Tony ends the call, scrubbing his eyes and resisting the unreasonable urge to throw his phone off the balcony. His heart is pounding, he is breathing hard, and there is a hard ball of anger in his stomach. How dare he still keep calling him sweetheart? He puts his face in the crook of his elbow and screams a few curse words, muffling it as best he can. He paces up and down the balcony, the cold air forgotten. He has to calm the fuck down before he goes back to the rowdy Okinawans. For some reason, agreeing to the dinner makes him feel weak. Easy, even.

“Fuck!” he kicks one of the chairs on the balcony and it bounces off the balcony wall.

“Boss?”

Tony jumps and sees that George has come onto the balcony.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Tony flushes, glad that it is dark and that George cannot see him clearly.

“You OK?”

“Fine. I’ll be in in a minute,” he gestures to George to go back in.

“Sure you’re OK?”

“I just need a minute.”

“You want your coat? It’s cold out. You know that’s bad for you.”

“One fucking minute, OK?” he grates out.

“OK, Boss. I’m gonna wait for you right in here,” George is now obviously worried.

“Fine.”

When Tony goes back in, there is no trace of his inner turmoil. He is charming and outgoing, his usual fun self. However, in bed that night, he realizes that mixed in with the anger is a large helping of eager anticipation, which makes him even angrier with himself. One phone call, a few pleases, one fucking no strings dinner, one ‘I’ll make time for you’ and he’s going to fold? More screamed curses, this time muffled by pillows so his protective detail won’t rush his hotel room.

Just for that, he waits three full days before he texts Gibbs the date and time that they can have dinner. Even though he had blocked his calendar right away. And this pettiness just makes him that much angrier at himself. He cannot believe that he is reacting this way – this is completely a reflection on his own idiocy, and nobody else’s and that there is something very, very wrong with him. He receives a text back with the restaurant name and reservation time. Gibbs has chosen one of his old favorites, a lovely Italian bistro that he still likes. This is the extent of their communication after the phone call.

His Marines realize that there is a definite edge in Tony’s moves when they spar. They have been trying to take it easier, given the Under’s shoulder injury, but Tony refuses to allow that, and seems to need the physical outlet of hitting something and being hit in return. His FitBit readings also tell them that he has been utilizing the treadmill in his room every night, and pushing himself. They have not seen this behavior from him since the first couple of months as Under Secretary, back when he had still been punishing himself post-NCIS.

Wilson discusses this with Lois, George and Kyle in private, but they are unable to figure out what is going on. Tony maintains his normal persona during the day, refusing to allow any cracks to be seen, therefore not giving them any openings to discuss this behavior with him. Again, they had seen this during his first couple of months on the job, when he had been ruthlessly hiding all of his emotions. Obviously something triggered this, and they all have their suspicions but there is nothing that they can do.


	5. Give me a memory I can use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Gibbs. And the possibility of couples counseling? (This bit is especially for all of you who suggested couples counseling for our boys) :D

Tony almost cancels dinner three times on the day itself. But in the end, he finds himself going to the restaurant, dressed in a nice suit, no tie. His security detail is discreetly in the background when he walks into the restaurant and sees Gibbs sitting at the bar, waiting for him. Gibbs is dressed in a suit that he has never seen before – it looks really good on him. Freshly showered and shaved too. Was that a hint of cologne? The almost relieved smile on his face when he sees Tony confuses him even more.

They are seated at a table in the back where they will have some privacy. Tony’s detail is seated several tables over, with a clear line of sight of him.

“Hey,” Gibbs says, looking nervous. “Wasn’t sure you’d show.”

“Me, too,” Tony admits.

“Drove me crazy waiting for the text about your schedule. Thought you were maybe backing out. Or forgetting me.”

Tony nods. “Kind of did that on purpose,” he finds himself confessing.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to come across too eager, I guess.”

Gibbs smiles. “You owe an apology to McGee, Bishop and the baby Probie.”

“Were you awful to them for those three days?”

“Unbearable.”

Tony grins. “Ah well. I shielded them from you for enough years.”

“Yes, you did.”

They smile at each other. Gibbs’ eyes crinkle up in the corners, attractive crow’s feet framing his intense blue eyes. Tony has to look away to breathe. “Thought maybe you’d catch a case and have to cancel,” he says.

Gibbs makes a face. “I, uh, took the day off to make sure that didn’t happen. Gave the team the day off too.”

“ _You_ took the day off?” Tony repeats, disbelievingly.

“Closed a case yesterday. Couldn’t take the chance we might catch a case today.”

Tony looks around. “I’m kind of waiting for the world to end now.”

Gibbs laughs. “Yeah,” he nods wryly.

They order food and nurse their drinks – bourbon for Gibbs, beer for Tony.

“How’s the shoulder?” Gibbs asks.

“Pretty good. Almost have full range of motion back.”

“You always did heal quick.”

And they sit across from each other, Gibbs openly staring at Tony while Tony alternates between looking into Gibbs’ eyes and looking at his own hands on the table. After a long awkward silence, Tony sighs.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” he says softly.

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

“We never had issues finding things to talk about before.”

“That’s cause you always did all the talking. All I did was sit and look at you. Admire you. Watch the sun shine and highlight your hair. Watch that damned dimple appear and disappear in your cheek as you speak. Stare at the sparkle in your eye when you were up to something.”

Tony looks up in surprise, and sees the fondness in Gibbs’ smile. “What?” he says, confused.

“It’s what I’m doing now. Taking you in. You always take my breath away. It was good you filled our silence.”

“What?” Tony repeats. He feels his face heat up and blood rush to his face.

“Like that. I love watching you when you blush. Cause I know it’s not a mask. It’s real. I always watched you to see all the real things that you try to hide.”

Tony pulls his head back. “Why are you telling me this?”

Gibbs sighs. “You were right. Back then. I didn’t value you enough. Didn’t tell you how I felt. Didn’t share myself with you.”

“So you’re doing it now?”

Gibbs shrugs. “Seemed right.”

Their food arrives, and they start eating. “Why did you come to the dinner at my apartment?” Tony asks curiously. “I’ve invited everyone other times and you never came.”

Gibbs blows out a breath. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I thought if I saw you again and you were happy, and had moved on, then maybe I could move on too.”

“And what you saw was me not having moved on? So that means what, we should get back together? Because that turned out real well for us the first time,” sarcasm drips from Tony’s words.

“I don’t know that I thought that far. It just didn’t feel over. Feels unfinished.”

Tony rubs his face tiredly. “I don’t know how to react,” he says softly. “I just know that we keep hurting each other. We can’t be good for each other.”

“I think we’re different now.”

“Different how? Are you less of a bastard? Am I less of a needy, affection-starved pushover? People don’t change, Gibbs. Not essentially.”

“No, essentially you’re still the same but you’ve evolved. You have a commanding air about you now. You expect people to do what you say, and people do it. I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve snapped to when you ordered.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “I’m what?”

“You’re commanding.”

“I’m commanding?”

“Yep. But you’re still you. Just...more.”

“I’m me but more,” Tony’s eyebrows are raised.

“Plus you do keep repeating things that I say. That’s different.”

Tony stares at Gibbs for a moment. “Was that a joke?” he finally asks.

“Apparently not a good one.”

“Huh.” Tony takes a moment to think through what Gibbs is saying. “So if I’m…more now, how are you different?”

Gibbs grins. “I’ve said more tonight to you than I’ve probably said to any three people in this past year.”

Tony nods thoughtfully. “OK.”

“And for you, I’ll apologize, and plead. For you, I’ll do and I’ll say anything. I should have given you all these things when we were together. I should have been more for you. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret that. That I forgot who you were and why you were special to me. That I made you those promises and then didn’t keep them. Until you couldn’t stay.”

Unexpectedly, Tony’s eyes fill with tears.

“And I regret that I caused you so much pain,” Gibbs continues. “That I hid you and how important you were to me from the world. If nothing else, I owed you an apology, and a real explanation. So I’m trying to do it now. Apologize. Explain.”

Tony tries desperately not to let the tears fall. They are in a restaurant. In a public place. His security detail is watching.

Gibbs reaches across the table and brushes his tears away with his thumb. “I regret that I keep causing you pain, even when I’m trying to make amends.”

“Fuck, Gibbs, have you been seeing a shrink or something?” Tony tries to deflect.

Gibbs smiles. “Not my style. But if you want to, I would go with you, if that would help us figure things out.”

“Are you actually suggesting couples counseling?” Tony says, aghast.

“If you want it, I’d do it. And I would take it seriously.”

Tony blinks and looks around wildly. “Seriously, Jethro, is the world fucking ending now?”

“So I take it that’s a no to counseling.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely not. Not our style.”

Gibbs’ smile widens. “Is there an ‘our’ in that sentence?”

“I don’t know. Is there?” Tony finally grins. He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I expected when you asked me to dinner. But I’m pretty sure this wasn’t it.”

Gibbs reaches a hand, palm up across the table. “I’ve really, really missed you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice hoarse and tinged with sadness.

Tony stares at the outstretched offered hand, and wildly looks into Gibbs’ eyes. It is an opening. Does he take it? Take Gibbs’ hand, and see where that takes them? Have they grown that much? Changed enough? Is it even possible to change that much? Gibbs watches the play of emotions in Tony’s eyes, watches the pulse point in his neck hammering crazily, watches the tips of Tony’s ears turn pink and slowly the rest of his face matches the tips of his ears, watches as tears threaten behind those beautiful green eyes.

“Even if you think I’m more, and maybe I am, I don’t know, I’m still me. I’ll still want to please you. Need your approval. That’s what got us in trouble before,” Tony’s eyes keep straying to Gibbs’ hand. “I can’t go back to what I was. I can’t go back to being happy with whatever scraps you throw at me, and I can’t go back to needing one kind word from you to affirm who I am. I can’t do that to myself again. I won’t.”

Gibbs gives him the most serious look he has ever received. “I see who you are now and I like what I see. Before we started our relationship the last time, I thought I saw you, thought I understood you then. But I didn’t really. I broke my own rule, assumed you would fight for what you needed because that’s what I do, that’s who I am. I let you let me have my way instead of thinking about what you needed. Now, you’re still you, even though you’re more. And I will do everything I can to help you continue to be you, because who you are is beautiful and amazing, and that’s who I want to be with. I don’t want to break you down the way I did. I might need your help doing it, but I want to put your needs before mine, the way you used to put my needs before yours.”

“I am still angry with you,” Tony says slowly, after a long pause. “Even though it was as much my fault and my mistakes too, there’s a big part of me that’s still angry.”

Gibbs nods understandingly. “I can see why,” he says quietly. “I’d be fucking pissed off at me too, if I were you. Question is, are you still so angry that you can’t see past it? That you’d hold on to it instead of to me?”

Tony frowns, his mind whirling crazily, unable to hold on to one concrete thought at the question. How angry is he still? He bites his lips and looks at Gibbs, and looks at his hand, still patiently awaiting his answer, without actually pressuring him into making any decisions.

“What about you? Are you angry with me?” he asks Gibbs.

Gibbs shakes his head. “All I can see about us back then is all the mistakes I made. All the terrible things I did to you. If I’m angry, it’s all with myself. Never with you.”

“I don’t know if the anger will just go away,” Tony says hesitantly, “but maybe I can try to understand it and maybe get past it.”

Finally, Tony places two trembling fingers in Gibbs’ open palm, and feels the warm hand close around them, squeezing gently. His heart is racing, blood pounding in his ears, and his breathing so rapid, he’s pretty sure he’s close to hyperventilating.

“Drink some water, sweetheart,” Gibbs urges him, holding a glass out to him with his free hand, still clutching at his two fingers with the other.

Tony takes the glass and takes a few big gulps.

“Your detail is about ready to extract you, any minute now,” Gibbs says softly, eyes flicking away from Tony for a second.

Tony turns to look at the Marines, concern evident in their faces. And suddenly he starts laughing. “Fuck,” he gasps. “’The Under is falling apart’,” he mimics someone calling it in a radio. “Oh god. I’m fucking falling apart, aren’t I?”

Gibbs grins at him, “No more than usual, I’d say.”

Tony chugs the water, takes a deep breath and turns to grin reassuringly at his detail before he turns back to Gibbs. “So. Where do we go from here?”

“Do you want to? Be with me?”

Tony closes his eyes and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Probably too much,” he says softly. “Probably why this is a bad idea. Probably why all we’ll do is just hurt each other all over again.”

“Or maybe we’ll choose differently this time. Be better at being together, since we've already made so many mistakes before.”

“But what if we make the same mistakes over again? Or what if we make different but no less painful mistakes this time?”

“Well, there’s always couples counseling,” Gibbs quips, making Tony laugh again.

Finally, over coffee, Tony makes his decision. “No promises. But we take it slow. Not promising to be exclusive or whatever. Not promising you anything. Except maybe we can talk on the phone every so often – even if you are fucking awful at it – but I will expect you to continue to talk like this. I will expect actual words. And maybe exchange some texts. Maybe another dinner in the future. See how that goes?”

“That’s more than I hoped,” Gibbs smiles.  
Tony nods. “All right then.” He smiles, and Gibbs watches as the smile touches his eyes, the emotion slowly gathering first in the fledgling curve of the lips, and then the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, and the deep dimple in his right cheek, and finally, finally spreading into his beautiful green eyes.

“Uh, you’re staring,” Tony tells him, trying not to blush.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart,” Gibbs grins. “I can’t help myself. And…there’s the blush,” he laughs gleefully when Tony colors, most attractively.

Even though Tony now looks annoyed, he does not pull away from Gibbs’ hand. “Did you even hear anything I said? Back then, I mean? Or were you just fucking dazzled by my fucking beauty the entire time, and the words meant nothing?”

“Oh I heard you. But you dazzled me. Still do.”

Tony sighs and looks down. “This is a lot to take in.”

Gibbs nods. “For me, too. Fuck, Tony, last week the best thing I could have said about how things ended with us is that at least you didn’t take a nine iron to my head.”

Tony laughs at that. “Still time for that now.”

Gibbs holds Tony’s two fingers with both hands. “One more thing.”

“There’s more?”

“Yep. This, what we’re trying, I don’t want it to be a secret.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“You were right – I was an asshole about telling people about us. Didn’t tell anyone. Made you feel like a dirty little secret, I think you said. Like my mistress. So I’m telling the team tomorrow that we had a date tonight. And that we might start dating again. See if we can work things out.”

Tony is unable to keep the skeptical look off his face.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking godawful everything is without you,” Gibbs says seriously. “That you’re willing to give me a chance now, I can’t even believe and I am not going to waste it. Letting you go back then was the right thing to do – just look at everything you’ve accomplished and what you’ve become now. You needed to leave. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that I want to be yours again, to be the one who makes you smile every day, and to help ease your pain when you’re hurting, to say yes to you even if I don’t agree or understand what I’m agreeing to. If it turns out after we give this another go that we can’t be together, that we really aren’t good for each other, then I will just have to accept that. But I’m glad you’re willing to give me another shot.”

Tony stares at him wordlessly.

“You gonna say anything? You’re supposed to be the vocal one in this relationship.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard you say so many things in one breath. Like, ever.”

“I told you, for you I’ll say stuff.”

“Right. Well, I’m still waiting for the world to end,” Tony grins. “Or maybe I should pinch myself.”

After dinner, Gibbs walks Tony back to his car, and before he opens the door, he kisses Tony, in full view of his security detail. Tony’s eyes flutter shut as he kisses back, sighing as he melts into Gibbs’ embrace, opening his mouth, allowing Gibbs’ tongue entry to re-explore and map the insides of his mouth again, to do the same to Gibbs’ mouth, tasting each other, in turns dominating and submitting to each other, demanding yet tender. The kiss slowly ends with little nibbles that turn into another long kiss, Gibbs sucking Tony’s bottom lip into his mouth, moaning as Tony’s teeth nip at his lips as their tongues duel each other gently. Finally Tony pulls away, realizing that they have just given his detail quite the show.

He smiles, embarrassed, because somehow during the kiss they have pulled each other close and ground up against each other. He is fully erect, and he can feel Gibbs’ matching reaction against him. He clears his throat. “I thought we were going to go slow,” he teases.

Gibbs grinds himself against the younger man one more time before he slowly releases him. “I guess I forgot.”

“Good night, Special Agent Gibbs,” Tony tells him.

“Good night, Under Secretary DiNozzo,” he whispers back. He opens the door and when Tony has climbed into the car, they share one last kiss. “Bye, sweetheart.” He closes the door, gives Tony one last smile, and nods awkwardly at Tony’s detail as he walks past them.

When his detail get in the car with him, they grin wickedly at him. “That’s more like it, sir,” they tell him.

Tony rolls his eyes at them, even as he blushes. “Voyeurs,” he mutters quietly, grinning at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, obviously Gibbs says a lot and in that sense is out of character, but I'm hoping he comes across as making an effort, trying to be what Tony needs him to be. Hope you guys liked how the dinner turned out :)


	6. Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Gibbs try to rekindle their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this! You guys have been really awesome. Thank you! :)

The next morning, the Under’s staff notices him smiling at his phone several times during their morning briefing and smiling as he taps a reply back. After the briefing, Lois asks him.

“Why were you smiling at your phone? That’s a new smile.”

Tony’s ears turn pink and he smiles. “Had a date last night,” he admits.

“Oh, do tell.”

“He just sent a couple of follow up texts.”

“Sounds like a good date.”

“It was. Surprisingly.”

“So, you gonna see him again, or is this another one of those ones we never talk about?”

Tony glares at her. “You always seem to talk about them even if we’re not supposed to. And it’s not like there were very many of them.”

“Sure, Boss. So what about this one?”

“Yeah, I’m seeing him again.”

“We should run a background check on him.”

Tony clears his throat. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Hey, someone you want to see on a regular basis, you know the drill. They have to be scrutinized. Checked out. It’s what comes from being the Under.”

Tony blushes. “Well. He’s already got security clearance and stuff. Probably don’t need to get too crazy with his background check. Probably have one on record.”

Lois harrumphs. “That’s what they always say. It doesn’t hurt to check the guy out, Boss.”

Tony covers his face. “Can we just give it a rest for now, Lois? Please? This is taking the fun out of everything.”

“Sorry, Boss. Who is the guy anyway?”

Tony’s phone rings and it’s Abby. He sighs. “Hold on,” he tells Lois, answering his phone. “Hey Abs.”

“Is it true? Did you go on a date with the Bossman last night? And you guys agreed to try again? Is it true, Tony?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Omigod! That is fucking awesome, Tony! You haven’t been happy, he hasn’t been happy.”

“Abby, we’re taking it slow. No promises. It might not work out,” Tony warns her gently.

“No way it’s not working out. Omigod! This is the best news I’ve had in a while!”

“Abby…”

“Oops I gotta go. I hope things go well with you and the Bossman, Tony. It’s about time you guys were happy again.”

Tony sucks in a breath, looking at his phone. “Well, I guess he’s telling people,” he mutters to himself.

“Uh, Boss. Did I hear Abby right?” Lois looks uncomfortable. “She was pretty loud. Are you seeing Gibbs again?”

Tony nods carefully. “Yeah. But we’re not jumping into anything. We just had one date last night. He walked me to my car. That’s all.”

“But you agreed to see him again.”

“I did.”

“Why, Boss?”

Tony blushes. “He made a very good case for us to see each other again,” he says quietly.

“Is that a good idea, Tony?” Lois says gently. “I mean you guys obviously have a history, and I doubt you’ve actually gotten over each other. But I mean, it didn’t end well the last time.”

“I know,” Tony scrubs his face. “We talked about that last night. I doubt it will be easy, but he thinks we’ve grown and we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

“What do _you_ think?”

Tony sighs. “I miss him, Lois,” he finally says. “And maybe nothing comes of this. Maybe trying again shows us that we’re not meant to be together. That we don’t work. But I have to try. I owe it to him and to myself. We were friends before anything happened. Even if we don’t work, maybe we can gain that friendship back? I don’t know.”

Lois sucks in a breath. “Well. Then I guess all I ask is that you try not to get yourself hurt again this time.”

“I’m a big boy, Lois. I’ll be OK.”

“If he hurts you again, you know it’s not going to be good for him,” Lois says darkly. “You’re the Under Secretary of the Navy, for god’s sake. You’ve got people now.”

Tony laughs. “That sure reeks of misuse of power. Besides, don’t break us up before we even get anywhere.”

Their schedules do not allow them to see each other again for another few weeks, but they exchange texts every day, and Gibbs calls Tony almost every day. The first few phone calls are excruciating and awkward, but slowly it gets better. Gibbs begins telling Tony about the cases they are working on, the stupid things the baby Probie said, how McGee and Bishop are shaping up, and even how much he misses Tony and why. And for his part, Tony’s natural garrulousness returns and he begins filling in some of the silences with his usual brand of chatter, sharing with Gibbs little humorous stories about his own day and the antics of his staff, random but somehow pertinent movie trivia, and complaints about missing Kyle and his precognitive ways.

Almost more than the phone calls, Tony loves the texts that he gets from Gibbs. Apparently 160 characters is the perfect amount for someone as taciturn as Gibbs is. Some of the texts that become Tony’s favorites:

_Baby Probie puked in car, riding shotgun. Fucking lightweight. Made me think of you before you got used to my driving. Wait you never did._

_McGee misspelled ‘perpetrator’ in his report today. Calls himself a computer genius? Even I know how to use spellcheck._

_Saw that it was raining in Portland today. Stay dry. Tell George he’s dead meat if you catch cold._

_Baby Probie broke Rule 23 today. He’s ready to piss himself. Shall I flog him or just let him call you sir again?_

_Bishop’s acting hinky today. Either she has a new boyfriend or she’s constipated. Your thoughts?_

_McGee super glued Baby Probie’s fingers to the plasma clicker. Almost snorted coffee through my nose._

_Missed you today, sweetheart._

Every morning, in lieu of bringing in coffee for Gibbs as he often used to when they worked together, Tony begins his day by texting Gibbs pictures of cups of coffee at all the different places he is at, from strong middle eastern brews that he claims even Gibbs would have trouble drinking, to beautiful concoctions with heart-topped froth, to the terrible crap from various DoD coffee machines. Gibbs likes that Tony is doing this for many reasons, the top two being that a) Tony is thinking of him every morning, and b) he can keep track of where Tony is by the coffee he is drinking.

At their next date, Gibbs shows Tony that he’s upgraded to a smart phone.

“Why, did they just stop carrying your flip phones?” Tony teases, grinning.

“Nah. It’s easier to get the pictures you text me with this phone. Easier to text you, too.”

“Did you get a smart phone for me?” Tony is wide eyed, flattered beyond reason.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Gibbs’ smile takes the bark out of his words.

They have quite a few public dates, out to dinner, a few coffee dates, eating at the diner together. Each time the date ends with Gibbs walking Tony to his car and kissing him goodbye. The first non-public date is at Gibbs’ house. Gibbs has promised Tony (and his protective detail) cowboy steaks. As one of the Marines had so accurately put it, Tony’s detail only goes hungry if he does. For this date, his detail will remain in the car and patrol the exterior of the house regularly.

After dinner, they sit on Gibbs’ couch and kiss – slow, delicious kisses. Gibbs focuses on kissing Tony the way he does everything, single-mindedly, as if Tony’s mouth – lips, tongue, teeth – is the only thing left in the world. Finally, when Tony is straddling him, moaning as their hard cocks rub against each other, lost in their kisses, he buries his hand in Tony’s hair and slowly pulls away.

“I won’t want to stop if we keep going like this,” he tells Tony as Tony rubs his erect dick restlessly against Gibbs’ through their clothes.

Tony kisses down his jaw to his ear. “I don’t want you to stop,” he whispers huskily.

Gibbs moans as Tony’s tongue traces the shell of his ear, expertly revisiting his most sensitive spots. “Let’s go upstairs,” he moans, even as his hands move from Tony’s hair down to his ass, under Tony’s pants, kneading and squeezing, bringing him even closer, rubbing their hardness together. He pulls Tony’s mouth back to his, and without breaking the kiss, he maneuvers them into a standing position, and towards the stairs. Tony begins unbuttoning Gibbs’ shirt as they start up the stairs, and clothes are haphazardly discarded on their way up the stairs. By the time Gibbs pushes Tony down onto his bed, he is only clad in his boxers and Tony is completely naked.

“I like that you still don’t wear underwear,” Gibbs growls at him, taking a moment to just look at the younger man. “Fuck, Tony, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“So are you,” Tony sits up and pulls his boxers down, smiling lasciviously at the erect cock waving in his face. He licks him from the base up, pressing his tongue against the underside of the cockhead while Gibbs gasps and grabs a handful of Tony’s hair. Tony explores the slit thoroughly with his tongue, lapping the pre-cum oozing from it before he takes the whole shaft deep into his throat, humming when the thick head brushes the back of his throat. Gibbs places one hand on Tony’s cheek, fisting his other hand in Tony’s hair, and begins thrusting into his mouth, feeling himself pushing against Tony’s cheek.

“Fuck, Tony,” he gasps as Tony begins sucking on his cockhead. With an agonized groan, Gibbs pulls Tony off before he can get too far. Tony’s answering groan of protest makes him smile. He leans down and claims Tony’s lips and pushes him down on the bed, covering him with his body. “It would be over too soon if you keep going like that, sweetheart,” he whispers. He lavishes kisses down Tony’s sensitive neck, sucking, nibbling, licking the golden skin that he has missed, that he has only dreamed about for too long. Tony’s hand strokes the back of his neck, his shoulders, his arms, as he moves down to suck on first one then the other nipple, rubbing his calloused fingers on one as he sucks on the other, loving the moans torn from Tony’s throat.

As Gibbs moves lower, he traces each of Tony’s ribs first with his fingers, then with his lips and tongue, and then on to Tony’s hard belly, six-pack clearly defined.

“You’ve clearly been working out,” he breathes, tracing each quivering muscle with his tongue.

“The UnderSex needed an outlet,” Tony moans, making Gibbs laugh huskily. “Fuck Jethro, you need to speed this up or I’m going to come without us getting to the good part. I need you too much right now. I need you to fuck me. Don’t make me come like this.”

Gibbs grins wickedly at him. “Is that so?” he asks mildly, his fingers gently rubbing the inside of Tony’s thighs.

“Fuck you, Jethro. I need you,” Tony growls demandingly, fisting himself, arching his back. “Do this fast, Jethro,” he moans as he strokes himself slowly.

Gibbs pulls Tony’s hand away, replacing it with his own as he grabs the lube. Slicking his fingers, he slides one finger into Tony’s tight hole, and Tony arches almost off the bed, swearing, his hand back on his dick, grasping the base tightly. This time to stop himself, to delay the orgasm. Tony again urges Gibbs to hurry the fuck up.

“Told you you were commanding these days,” Gibbs says as he slides a second finger in, scissoring them inside Tony and brushing against his swollen prostate. “Here’s me obeying.”

Tony is lost to sensation, focused on holding off his release, focused on Gibbs’ fingers inside him, Gibbs' mouth sucking on his cockhead.

“Now, Jethro, now now now,” he begs and Gibbs lubes his dick and drives himself into Tony’s hot, tight body, and feels himself squeezed tight.

“Fuck, Tony, you’re so fucking tight,” he moans.

“No one since you,” Tony wraps his legs around Gibbs waist, fucking himself onto Gibbs even more. “Oh god, now, fuck me now. I’m so close. Need you.”

Gibbs leans down and kisses Tony as he begins thrusting hard. Tony’s hands are on his ass, fingers digging in hard, pulling him deeper with each thrust. When Gibbs changes the angle and begins hitting Tony’s prostate, the younger man loses control, barely needing to stroke himself before he cries out, muscles contracting, spewing thick hot cum onto his and Gibbs’ chest and belly in long, hard spurts. With a guttural cry, Gibbs thrusts in short, hard strokes, filling Tony’s body with his own release.

Finally, their harsh breathing slows down, and Gibbs brushes soft kisses on Tony’s neck and the sweaty hollow at the base of his throat. “You OK, sweetheart?” he finally asks.

Tony hums, eyes closed, pulse still racing but his entire being suffused with a sated heaviness. Gibbs pulls the younger man close, completely unmindful of the mess on Tony’s belly and chest. His hands run up and down Tony’s body, caressing him continuously until he begins sighing with the caresses.

“Back with me, sweetheart?” Gibbs asks, dropping soft kisses along his cheek and jaw.

Eyes still shut, Tony’s mouth quirks up in a slow, lazy smile. “Mmm,” he hums, “UnderSex needed that.”

Gibbs grins and kisses Tony’s eyelids, wanting him to open his eyes so he can gaze on them, those brilliant, mesmerizing pools of green. Eyelids flutter, long lashes fanning those perfect golden cheeks for a second before Tony’s eyes open in a cat-like slit.

“So, nobody since me?” Gibbs asks.

Tony grins. “There were a few dates. Very little sex. But nobody fucked me since you.”

“I haven’t seen anyone since you.”

“Not anyone?”

Gibbs shakes his head. “Only you. I dream about you,” Gibbs whispers. “All the time.”

“Yeah? Good dreams or bad ones?”

“Both.”

Tony turns his head and captures Gibbs’ lips in a gentle kiss. “Well I hope tonight your dreams will be good,” he checks his watch. “I do have to go home tonight – have a call at 0300 with people in Asia and everything is at home, my notes, my laptop, everything.”

“OK,” Gibbs tells him, continuing to let his fingers run down Tony’s body, from his shoulder, down his chest, scraping a nipple, down to his belly, hips and knee, and then back up the same way. He carefully fingers the healed puckered hole in Tony’s shoulder, yet another scar marring his perfect golden skin. “When will you be back in DC? Can I see you again?”

“Definitely want to see you again,” Tony smiles, twisting his body and plastering it against Gibbs’, tucking his face into the crook of Gibbs’ neck and kissing it. “I’m still in DC tomorrow night but have a thing until late. You can come over real late, if you want to,” he says hesitantly.

“Do you want me to?”

Tony nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That would be nice. If I don’t answer the door, just use your key.”

“You didn’t change your locks?”

Tony snorts. “Practically everybody I know knows how to pick locks so what would be the point of changing my locks?”

“Kind of why I leave my door unlocked.”

“Well, I don’t want my neighbors coming in and helping themselves to my stuff when I’m away for weeks sometimes. So I need the locks.”

“Who cares for Kate and Ziva while you’re gone? Do you still have the girls?”

“Someone from my staff drops by to feed them every day I’m gone.”

“Gonna get us cleaned up,” Gibbs kisses Tony one more time before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a washcloth. Tony smiles to himself and stretches his long, lean body until his spine cracks. His hand ends up under Gibbs’ pillow and he accidentally pulls a soft shirt out from under it. He does a double take and holds it up when Gibbs returns. “Uh, Jethro? Is this my shirt?”

And to Tony’s delight, Gibbs blushes bright crimson, something he has never seen. Gibbs snatches the shirt out of Tony’s hand and shoves it back under his pillow before he starts wiping Tony off with a wet washcloth.

“Yeah,” he finally says without looking at Tony.

“You sleep with my shirt?”

Gibbs shrugs and throws the washcloth in the general direction of the bathroom. “Not every night,” he hedges.

Tony pulls the older man down on him and kisses him thoroughly. “You’re fucking sweet, you know that?” he says softly, his fingers in Gibbs’ soft hair, and soothing his now-tensed shoulders. Gibbs smiles at him, embarrassed. “Why doesn’t it have buttons?”

“’S the one I tore off you that night we ended up under the piano,” Gibbs mumbles. “I didn’t really have much else of yours after you cleared your stuff from here.”

Tony rolls them over so he is on top, and begins kissing Gibbs’ face gently. “Oh, Jethro,” he says softly, leaning his forehead against Gibbs’.

“I needed something of yours to help me get to sleep,” Gibbs continues. “It was hard when it stopped smelling like you, but it was still yours.”

“Oh, babe,” Tony’s eyes fill with tears, and he claims Gibbs’ lips again, and they stay in each other’s arms, nuzzling each other gently for a long time. Finally Tony sighs and kisses Gibbs apologetically, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“You have to go right away?” Gibbs asks.

Tony looks at his watch. “Not right away.”

“We haven’t had dessert.”

Tony grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “I don’t know, I thought this was pretty satisfying.”

“No I actually have dessert. Pie from the diner. And ice cream.”

Tony smiles. “Sounds good. You get it going and I’ll look for my clothes.” After Gibbs pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants and leaves, Tony starts looking for his clothes, knowing some might be on the stairs. He also takes a minute to pull the shirt out from under Gibbs’ pillow, sniffs it, and rubs it on himself, sniffing it experimentally before sliding it back under the pillow with a sad smile.

They end the evening eating pie and ice cream on Gibbs’ couch, and Gibbs walks Tony to his car, kisses him soundly, and watches as he is driven away.

The next night, it is after midnight when Gibbs slips into Tony’s apartment quietly when there is no answer to his knocks. It is dark. Tony isn’t home yet. He sends Tony a text and grabs a beer from the fridge. His phone chirps – an incoming text.

_Still stuck in the thing. Beer in fridge. Home within the hour._

Tony ends his text with a picture of a tiny red heart and Gibbs smiles. He is on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, watching the sports channel when Tony’s door opens and his detail greets him before sweeping the apartment. Tony thanks them and comes in, closing the door with a wry smile.

“They insist on doing that every night,” he shakes his head. “Seriously, this has been the safest job I’ve ever had. Kind of weird not to have serial killers chained to me or kidnapping me or people trying to blow me up or shoot me on a regular basis.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Gibbs walks to him and kisses him. “I have a request…”

Soon, Tony is mindlessly chanting Gibbs’ name while he thrusts into the younger man’s body – deep, cockscrewing thrusts that drives him crazy, holding the base of Tony’s dick tightly, refusing to let him come while he keeps driving ruthlessly into his tight ass. Finally, when Tony has begged for release and has been reduced to wordlessly whimpering his need, he begins stroking the dick in his hand. Tony screams his name, almost immediately coming in hot spasms, bucking so hard that Gibbs’ head smacks against the bottom of the piano. His own climax takes over and he thrusts with abandon, painting the inside of Tony’s body with his release.

Some time later, echoes of Tony mindlessly begging for him still ringing in his ears – or maybe it was the blunt force trauma to the head – Gibbs lies holding Tony close. Sticky, and sated, entwined under the piano.

“Kinky,” Tony finally says breathlessly. “Under the piano. Who knew?”

Gibbs smiles, kisses the full lips, and slides a finger back inside Tony, rubbing up against his prostate, smiling when Tony groans deep against his mouth and begins pushing himself down against Gibbs’ finger.

“I needed a different memory of your piano,” he whispers into Tony’s ear before tracing his tongue around it.

“Fuck,” Tony moans, “we can do this whenever you want. Oh fuck.” And to Tony’s surprise, he is hard again, despite just having had a very loud and satisfying orgasm. Gibbs is sticking more fingers inside him, continuing to massage his over-sensitive organ. He grabs hold of Gibbs’ arm with one hand and claws at the floor with the other, moaning helplessly. When Gibbs moves down and takes his erect cock into his mouth, Tony gasps and arches his entire body, thrusting himself deep into Gibbs’ throat. Gibbs squeezes and rubs Tony’s balls, and carefully massages the skin underneath them, putting delicious pressure on Tony’s prostate from within and without. It doesn’t take long for Tony to come again, shooting his second load down Gibbs’ throat with a harsh almost-sob.

“How did you do that?” he pants out. “I haven’t been able to do that again so fast in years.”

“I guess you dig the piano, too,” Gibbs smiles and pulls Tony back into his arms, and they lie there wrapped around each other for a long time. Finally when Tony starts shivering, Gibbs crawls out from under the piano and helps Tony out.

“Might need to keep a blanket under there for us,” he says.

“You wanna keep fucking me under the piano?”

Gibbs shrugs. “I need lots of new memories to replace that one from before.”

Tony smiles and kisses him. They shower together before settling down in bed, still wrapped around each other until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally earned the explicit rating in this chapter ;)
> 
> I will try to respond to all of the lovely comments shortly. Wanted to post this chapter first.


	7. Let this be our lesson in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Seriously :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for all of you who have vocally supported this series and me with your kudos and comments. Hope this satisfies y'all! Thank you again for all your encouragement. The MW announcement, halfway through this story being posted, really bummed me out and you guys really helped me there. Thanks! :)

They settle into a new routine – in addition to spending time together, they also begin spending the nights together whenever Tony is in town, either in Tony’s apartment or at Gibbs’ house. Even if Gibbs is deep into a case 24/7, he still comes to Tony’s apartment, even if only to catch an hour’s sleep with Tony in his arms. They still go out on dinner dates, and continue the phone calls and texts. They begin including the people closest to them – dinner or drinks with the MCRT, including Abby, Ducky and Palmer, and even the Baby Probie dares to join them sometimes, also Lois, George, any off-duty protective detail Marines, and Kyle even though he is no longer Tony’s intern, having trained his replacement and started his teaching position at Annapolis.

Including the others basically happened by accident. Very late one Saturday night, Gibbs slips silently into Tony’s apartment. He had been scheduled to be in MTAC all night, planning to have breakfast with Tony, but the op was completed early. As has become his custom, he goes to Tony’s without calling or texting, so as to not wake him up. He sheds his clothes and crawls into bed, pulling Tony close and dropping kisses on his neck before he realizes that the figure is not Tony. He doesn’t feel or smell or taste like Tony. And he was wearing clothes.

Scrambling away and reaching for his gun, he turns the lamp on.

“Boss?” McGee is blinking owlishly at him, looking half asleep. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Where’s Tony?” Gibbs’ menacing tone wakes McGee up completely.

“On the sofa,” McGee’s eyes widen as he realizes with horror that Gibbs has just kissed his neck. And that Gibbs is naked. And has a gun trained on him. “Uh, Boss?”

“Why are you in his fucking bed?”

“You wanna put your gun down, Boss?”

“The fuck is all this noise?” Tony pads into the bedroom, eyes barely open, yawning sleepily. “Hey, Jethro. Leave McGee alone. Come on,” he tugs Gibbs out of bed, takes the gun away and puts the safety on, turns the light off and shuffles back to the living room, Gibbs in tow, calling out a muffled “Night, Probie” to McGee.

He pushes Gibbs onto the sofa, makes him lie on his side, back to the back of the sofa, crawls in butt first so they are spooning tightly, and pulls the blankets back over them.

“I just kissed McGee,” Gibbs hisses at him.

Tony laughs sleepily. “I’m sure Delilah won’t mind,” he turns his head and awkwardly kisses Gibbs. “If she does, I’ll offer to kiss her to make it even. I’m sleepy. Relax and go to sleep.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“We hang out if Delilah is out of town. Drink too much. I fall asleep on the sofa, he takes the bed. Been doing it since I left NCIS,” Tony mumbles, wriggling his body into a more comfortable position. “Now shut up. I’m still drunk and I’m sleepy.”

Gibbs’ body reacts to Tony’s ass cuddled hard against him. “Fuck, Tony,” he whispers, sucking on Tony’s neck and thrusting his erection against Tony’s ass.

“McGee’s in the other room,” Tony gasps.

“So? Be quiet,” Gibbs whispers as he pulls Tony’s sweatpants down and off of him. He reaches into the side table for lube, and begins preparing the younger man. Before long he is balls deep inside him, reaching his arm around to stroke his hard cock in time to his thrusts, finding Tony’s poorly stifled moans incredibly erotic. He pulls Tony’s thigh up, and angles his thrusts just right and Tony is lost, crying out as he stiffens and comes hard, Gibbs following closely with his own hoarse cry.

“That wasn’t very quiet,” Gibbs finally whispers in Tony’s ear. He pulls Tony’s t-shirt off and wipes him and the sofa off and throws the shirt aside carelessly.

Tony hums and snuggles in tight, pulling Gibbs’ arm around him. “At least I wasn’t screaming your name that time,” he mumbles, making Gibbs laugh. Sighing deeply, he falls back to sleep, his breathing deep and even. Gibbs props himself up on one elbow and runs his fingers lightly over Tony’s body, from his shoulder down to his flank and up again, watching the younger man’s face as he sleeps.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he whispers into Tony’s ear, smiling when Tony’s lips quirk into a half smile in his sleep.

Finally he pulls the blankets over them securely, scoots an arm under the pillow and under Tony’s head and holds him close with his other arm before he falls asleep.

McGee waits until he smells breakfast cooking before he carefully comes out from the bedroom the next morning. Tony is sitting at the island going through folders, pen in hand, while Gibbs is frying up pancakes and bacon.

“Uh, good morning, Tony. Boss,” he says uncertainly.

“There’s coffee,” Gibbs grunts at him, expertly flipping a pancake. “Sorry about last night.”

“Uh, no problem, Boss,” McGee stammers, flashing a panicked look at Tony who grins and shakes his head in amusement. At this point McGee isn’t sure what’s more disturbing: naked Gibbs kissing his neck, naked Gibbs pointing a gun at him asking him menacingly why he’s in his boyfriend’s bed, the sounds coming from the living room after Tony dragged the naked Gibbs out there (someone please get the disturbingly arousing sounds of his boss and his best friend having sex out of his head!) or the semi-dressed bed-headed Gibbs actually apologizing while he makes breakfast.

Gibbs looks surprisingly mellow for having found another man in his boyfriend’s bed, McGee thinks. And then it occurs to him that he does think of Gibbs as Tony’s boyfriend now. He grabs a mug, pours himself coffee and sits at the island with Tony, pulling the cream and sugar close to him.

“Should I leave?” he whispers to his former senior field agent.

“Nah. Have breakfast with us,” Tony tells him softly. “He makes the best pancakes.”

McGee watches wide-eyed while Gibbs places a platter of pancakes and a plateful of perfectly crisped bacon on the island and Tony sets out plates and silverware, casually exchanging kisses with Gibbs as they comfortably move around each other in the kitchen. Gibbs digs out the maple syrup out of Tony’s freezer. Quietly the three men eat their breakfasts, Tony deep in his work papers, Gibbs in a newspaper, and McGee finally settles down and flips through the news on his phone. He sends Abby a text to let her know that he is having a bizzarro world breakfast with Tony and Gibbs. He holds off on telling her about the noises he’d heard, thinking that was best left unshared, especially with Abby who would probably want him to record it the next time it happens. Oh god, there is not going to be a next time, McGee tells himself.

McGee helps with the dishes afterwards, then he showers. Not long after, Abby and Bishop turn up and they hang out watching movies and teasing each other all day. Gibbs thinks it’s the most fun he’s had with his team in a while, watching them interact with Tony easily. It’s what has been missing – his team worked well together, but with Tony in the mix, they are elevated into being much more of a family than they are without him.

Tony has to leave on a redeye that night, but the team camaraderie remains long after he’s gone. After that day, the teams both at NCIS and Tony’s Pentagon staff begin hanging out more with both Gibbs and Tony, although now McGee ensures that he always forces Tony into bed and takes the sofa, if they hang out drinking together.

One memorable time was spent at one of the MCRT’s favorite after work bar, with Tony, Lois and George. After several rounds and much trash talk, they organize an NCIS vs Pentagon darts tournament which quickly devolves into a knife-throwing competition when Tony brings out his throwing knives.

“Fuck, Boss! Why do you carry those?” Lois yells at him.

“You never know when you need them,” Tony shrugs, and expertly throws the knives into the dart board with deadly accuracy. “Thank you, Camp Poke-a-quatic,” he says smugly.

Bishop, McGee and Gibbs come up with one throwing knife each, teams form (girls vs. boys this time) and the competition is fierce. Abby is of course good with knives. Lois turns out to be surprisingly good, despite it being her first time throwing knives. Bishop is strangely consistent at hitting the target an inch to the left of the bullseye, and blames it on the alcohol she has consumed. At the end of the evening, Tony is leaning comfortably into Gibbs’ chest against the bar, cheering everyone on, immensely proud that his Pentagon staff is holding their own against the MCRT in both darts and knife throwing.

“Love you, sweetheart,” Gibbs whispers in his ear, hugging him close.

Tony’s heart skips a beat, but all he does is smile and turn his head for a hard kiss, holding Gibbs’ words close, but refusing to say them back to him.

It isn’t always good times for Tony and Gibbs. There are still times when Tony’s deep-seated, albeit dwindling anger rears its ugly head, and Tony senselessly punishes Gibbs by withholding his affections without reason or warning, and there are times when Gibbs’ natural tendency to dominate makes Tony dig in his heels, even if he actually agrees with Gibbs, but the tone in which Gibbs said something makes Tony see red. This time around, instead of Tony quietly agreeing with Gibbs to keep the peace, or Gibbs letting Tony’s passive aggressive anger slide, they have loud screaming matches, door-slamming, feet-stamping, finger-prodding-chest arguments, where they actually get everything out in the open very loudly, followed by desperate, angry and intense make-up sex. And then after that, they actually calmly talk through everything instead of letting it lie, choosing this time to face their issues together instead of taking the easy way and letting everything fester and boil in the background. The system seems to work, and each man is making an effort to work on their own issues without judging the other.

One night, after Tony took the initiative and fucked Gibbs into his mattress, he holds Gibbs close, trying to decide how to ask the question.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Gibbs asks, nibbling on Tony’s neck, completely relaxed after a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Well, uh, you know the Marine Corp Birthday Ball is coming up.”

Gibbs nods and hums as he continues to work on Tony’s neck.

“I have to go.”

“You’re the Undersecretary of the Navy. Course you have to go.”

“Right. Uh. Well…” Tony takes a deep breath. “You want to maybe come with me? As my date, I mean?”

Gibbs stops nibbling on Tony’s neck, raising his head to look into Tony’s worried eyes. He smiles. “Love to,” he smiles, kissing Tony’s lips.

“Really?” Tony almost squeaks in surprise.

“Really.” Gibbs’ husky answer calms the younger man, and the tension drains from his shoulders. “Is that why you needed to fuck me first?” Gibbs asks. “To mellow me out before you ask me?”

Tony makes a face. “Kind of? I mean, you never go to the ball, and you hate dressing up and I know it’s not really your thing…”

“Sweetheart, you never need an excuse to fuck me,” Gibbs says in his ear. “And it would be my honor to escort you to the ball.”

“I mean really, I can go stag…”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, sweetheart,” Gibbs says, smiling as Tony sighs and obeys. “Besides, don’t think I don’t know that the Chilean Admiral’s daughter – what’s her name? – thinks she’s marrying you so I’m gonna go stake my claim.”

Tony laughs. “You’re such a jealous bastard.”

“Yes, yes I am. I love you, sweetheart,” Gibbs breathes softly. Tony kisses him hard, but again, holds his own words inside.

The MCRT catches a case on the day of the ball, and Gibbs texts Tony to let him know that he will meet him in the lobby before the ball and that he might have to leave early depending on how the case goes. Tony is reassured when both McGee and Bishop text him to say that Gibbs is on a tear, trying to get the case solved or at least somewhat settled so he can take a few hours off that evening.

Tony arrives, dressed in a classic tailored Armani tuxedo. He looks around the lobby anxiously, wondering if Gibbs will be late.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Gibbs says from behind him.

Tony turns and gasps. Gibbs is resplendent in his dress blues, cap under one arm, medals pinned to his chest, his blue eyes twinkling happily. “Fuck,” Tony breathes, drinking him in. “You’re so fucking sexy, Marine,” he growls.

“You ready?” Gibbs inclines his head to the ballroom.

Tony nods, and takes the hand that Gibbs holds out to him. They enter and are announced together. Although they have not made a secret of their relationship, this is the first official outing that they have appeared at as a couple. Although there is a rustle in the crowd when they are announced, the rest of the evening goes well. The handsome Under Secretary and his dashing Marine escort make the rounds, hand in hand. When the dancing begins, Gibbs holds his hand out and, laughing at the surprise in Tony’s face, asks him to dance.

“But you never dance,” Tony says to him, as they sway in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“I told you that for you I would do anything,” Gibbs grins, “even dance.”

The joy in Tony’s green eyes is unmistakable.

“Do you have to leave this thing early for the case?” Tony asks as they sip champagne and chat with people at their table.

“Nope, starting back up 0700 tomorrow. McGee’s got his computer running whatever, and Abby’s machines are going too. Nothing to do but wait till it’s all done, so I'm yours all night.”

Tony’s smile is worth it all.

Later, after Tony has peeled his Marine out of his dress blues, and kissed and licked and sucked every inch of him that he can, and after his Marine has returned the favor and they have made slow, sweet love, they settle in each other’s arms, sweaty and sticky, Tony lays his head on Gibbs’ chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He kisses Gibbs’ chest gently, pausing to nibble on a nipple before he looks deep into those blue eyes that have haunted his dreams.

“I do, you know,” he says softly.

“Do what, sweetheart?” Gibbs asks, absently stroking Tony’s hair and his back.

“I do love you, Jethro.”

Gibbs’ fingers still, and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he cups Tony’s cheeks, leans up and kisses his lips, a deep, thorough kiss, filled with love. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispers back, smiling, eyes shining brightly.

Both of Tony’s arms are on Gibbs’ chest, chin propped on flattened palms so he can look at Gibbs’ face. “I never stopped loving you. The whole time.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it to you before. I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs. “Wasn’t ready to, I guess.”

“You’re ready now?”

Tony smiles, tracing Gibbs’ lips with one finger. “I actually think we’ll make it now, Jethro.”

Gibbs captures Tony’s finger and kisses it gently. “I think so too, sweetheart.” He pulls Tony’s head down for another kiss.

“I don’t think I’m ever coming back to NCIS,” Tony is hesitant to say it.

“No, you’ve outgrown us now.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t know what I’ll do next or where I’ll be after this Under gig is over.”

“Wherever you are, that’s home to me, sweetheart,” Gibbs says quietly.

“This is why I left Baltimore for you,” Tony says softly. “To belong to you. With you. Always.”

The older man smiles and places a hand on Tony’s cheek. “Always, sweetheart.”

Tony kisses him, his smile wide and filled with love. “Love you, Jethro,” he says again, amazed at the lightness in his heart, the incredible feeling of being loved for who he is, and of belonging fully. And to know that his feelings are reciprocated without reservation. To know that he can put Gibbs first again, because he can see and feel the proof of Gibbs’ efforts to put Tony first in his life. There will always be work that they both will have to do to keep the balance, but this time Tony thinks they will be able to do it. Tony kisses that beloved face, tightens his arms around him and curls his body protectively around the hard body under his. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Gibbs wraps his arms tightly around the younger man.

After a long moment, Tony lifts his head up and looks into Gibbs’ suspiciously moist eyes. “I have plans for you for later, Marine,” Tony says suggestively.

“Oh yeah? What kind of plans?” Gibbs quirks an eyebrow playfully.

“Under the piano kind of plans,” Tony growls. “I even put pillows under there.” And Gibbs holds Tony tightly against him as he laughs.

“You’re on, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! As you all know, the series was inspired by Adele's [All I Ask](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ff4UCoRuNJA) (click to listen). However for this work I had to also listen to a few other songs in order to not keep breaking our guys up ;) The songs are listed below, please click to listen if you're curious:
> 
> * [Million Years Ago](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5k3ozziBd8) (Adele)  
> * [Hello](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfG6VKnjrVw) (Adele)  
> * [Send My Love To Your New Lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iuFjEpPJdA) (Adele)  
> * [Come on Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGMEvRUWaRU) (Indigo Girls)  
> * [Perfect World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QcUAZSaMhM) (Indigo Girls)  
> * [Fill It Up Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9mJsau_42M) (Indigo Girls)  
> * [Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dX2cEmkOo5Q)


End file.
